1 



DAYS OF MY YEARS 



By J0SEPH GR0SS, 0.0., Llr.0. 



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THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

PUBLISHER, 

2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE NEW YORK. 



I 



f 



DAYS OF MY YEARS 



BY THE 



REV. JOSEPH CROSS, D. D., LL.D. 

M 

AUTHOR OF KNIGHT BANNERET, EVANGEL, COALS FROM THE ALTAR, EDENS OF 
ITALY, PAULINE CHARITY, OLD WINE AND NEW, 
ALONE WITH GOD, ETC. 




NEW YORK 
THOMAS WHITTAKER 

2 & 3 Bible House 
1891 




COPVRIGHT, 1890 

By JOSEPH CROSS 



TO CARRIE, MY DEAR WIFE, WHO FIRST PROMPTED THE 
ENDEAVOR, AIDED MUCH IN THE EXECUTION, AND SUG- 
GESTED THE NAME IT BEARS, THIS HUMBLE RECORD IS 
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

I. Proem, ........ i 

II. Genesis, . 3 

III. Wesleyans, . . . . . . .5 

IV. The Rector 7 

V. Serious Play 8 

VI. Exodus, 9 

VII. En Route for the Farm, . . . .13 
VIII. The New Home, . . . ... 15 

IX. The Young Methodist, . . 19 

X. Persecution, . . . . . 23 

XI. Education for the Ministry,. . . 27 
XII. Camp Meetings, 32 

XIII. Teetertown, . ... . . .35 

XIV. Toad Hollow, 40 

XV. New Relations, 44 

XVI. The Student, ...... 51 

XVII. The Local Preacher, . . . .56 

XVIII. An Evangelist 60 

XIX. The Itinerant, 65 

XX. Mexico Circuit, 75 

XXI. Rose and Clyde, ' 78 

XXII. Skaneateles and Cortland, . . 81 

XXIII. The Stenographer, 83 

XXIV. Ithaca, . 95 

XXV. BlNGHAMTON, . . . . ' . . IOI 

XXVI. Cazenovia, 107 

XXVII. Auburn, 114 

XXVIII. Genesee Conference, . . . . 121 



viii CONTENTS. 

Page 

XXIX. The Sailor, 127 

XXX. Edward T. Taylor, . . . . 134 

XXXI. Southward, 138 

XXXII. New Orleans, .141 

XXXIII. Covington, 148 

XXXIV. Yellow Fever, 155 

XXXV. Transylvania University, . . .162 

XXXVI. Danville, 170 

XXXVII. Maysville, 174 

XXXVIII. Nashville, 180 

XXXIX. Blue Meeting, 187 

XL. Trinity Church, 193 

XLI. Some Excursions, 204 

XLII. On Pilgrimage, 212 

XLIIT. In Italy 218 

XLIV. Rome 224 

XLV. Campania Felix, . . . . . . 232 

XLVI. Northward and Westward, . . 239 

XLVII. The Burnham Bells, 245 

XLVIII. On the Potomac, 248 

XLIX. Shiloh and Corinth, . . . .255 

L. Hospital Work, 262 

LI. Jeanie's Tribulations, .... 264 

LII. Into Kentucky, 269 

LIU. Perryville, 275 

LIV. Murfreesboro, 280 

LV. Knoxville, 285 

LVI. Chickamauga, 289 

LVII. Denouement, 294 

LVIII. In Transitu, 298 

LIX. Houston 303 

LX. Multum in Parvo, 311 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



I. PROEM. 

I HAVE overlived the assigned limit of human 
probation. Often, during the last decade, I have 
been asked : " Why do you not write an autobiog- 
raphy ? " Substantially, my usual reply has been : 
" Why should I ? Neither scholar, philosopher, nor 
moral reformer, what claim have I upon the world's 
attention ? I have never founded a college, en- 
dowed a hospital, invented a volapiik, patented 
a flying-machine, discovered an asteroid, evolved a 
new theology, explored a savage continent, cham- 
pioned a railroad strike, thrown a dynamite bomb, 
vindicated my honor in a duel, nor gone over Niag- 
ara in a barrel. What could I write of myself, that 
others would care to read? Thrice already have I 
undertaken something of that sort, and committed 
the misfortune to the flames. So late in life, shall 
I repeat my folly, and bury the abortion in my 
grave ? The man who writes an autobiography 
must have done something worth reading of ; why 
should I write an autobiography ? " 

These reasons seemed sufficient. The more my 



2 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



friends said against them, the more was I satisfied 
of their soundness. I had a repugnance to the 
enterprise, which no argument could overcome. 
But a new battery was now brought into the field, 
and I saw at once that the battle was lost. Too 
much a man to withstand the logic of a woman, 
nothing was left for me but surrender at discretion. 
So here is Adam again, careless of the cost to pos- 
terity, eating the apple presented by Eve. On this 
seventy-seventh anniversary of my advent in the 
vale of weeping — July 4, 1890 — I begin setting 
down from memory the chief happenings of my 
mortal pilgrimage ; intending, if Providence permit, 
to add an item or two every day, Sundays only ex- 
cepted, till I have written enough to satisfy the 
world and my wife. 

Many autobiographies I have read, from Robin- 
son Crusoe down to Teufelsdrockh and Amiel. 
Some of them — mostly English — say too much of 
everything, and too little of their proper subjects. 
Disappointments these, and patent frauds. The au- 
tobiographer must be the hero of his own story. 
He is interesting to others, only as he is interested 
in himself. Given these indispensable conditions, 
with an honest conscience, let him live and move 
in every page and paragraph, and what ingenuous 
critic will accuse him of foolish vanity or unholy 
ambition ? 

Whatever else the defect of this volume, it shall 
not be wanting in the Ego. I write of the most 
interesting conscious entity I have found in this 
planet. Freely I write of incidents and experiences 



GENESIS. 



3 



which are more to me than all the cosmic revolu- 
tions of the ages. With only such reserve as any 
and every reader has a right to require, I record 
as they occurred, and in the simplest style I can 
attain unto, the sins and sufferings, the conflicts 
and victories, the gracious influences and manifest 
providences, which have made up the history of one 
human soul, and moulded a character for eternity. 
Whatever of marvellous or romantic may seem to 
attach to some parts of the story, suffice it to say, I 
have little faculty of invention, less motive for ex- 
aggeration, and none for needless concealment or 
false coloring of facts. Here, under the morning 
star of immortality, I lay open my little book of life, 
and ask the world to read. Should it speak a word 
in season to him that is weary, a word of effectual 
warning to the tempted soul, a word of assurance 
to the doubter, of comfort to the mourner, or hope 
to the perishing, what ground shall I have to regret 
these chronicled Days OF My Years. 



II. GENESIS. 

I HAVE ranged the Alps, the Apennines, the 
Rocky Mountains. Some of their peaks and domes 
are burnt into my brain forever. In the west of 
England is a pyramidal hill, not more than seven 
hundred feet in altitude and three miles in circum- 
ference, more interesting to me than all. At its 
base I was born — just the spot I should have se- 
lected had I been consulted. Yet it is said I came 
into the world weeping. That would have been 



4 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ungrateful, had I known what a beautiful world it 
was, and how wonderfully its beauties were grouped 
about Brent Knoll. Where else are the fields so 
fair and the flowers so bright and fragrant ? At 
that day the nightingales sang in the hedges. 
The hill was cast in one of God's favorite moulds, 
and the rich variety of its garniture heightens the 
charm of its symmetry. The morning cloud loves 
to linger on its summit, and art never equalled its 
blush under the good-night kiss of the setting sun. 
It is crowned with fortifications from which, half a 
century before the Incarnation, Julius Caesar may 
have surveyed the scene of his British conquests. 
Thence to-day one looks out upon a landscape 
scarcely surpassed on earth — a vast plain, bounded 
on the north and east by the Mendip range, and on 
the south by the remoter Quantocks ; while to the 
west the Bristol Channel, between the bold head- 
lands of north Devon and south Wales, opens a 
broad vista to the Atlantic. 

When, in my forty-fourth year, I stood upon 
Mount Vesuvius and gazed down upon the Bay of 
Naples, I said : " Here is Brent Knoll again, and 
there lies Bristol Channel ! " In many respects the 
Somerset view has the advantage. Nothing here 
is on so grand a scale, but everything is more Eng- 
lish. No vineyards are visible — -no orange groves, 
nor shimmering lines of olives ; but there are fields 
more highly cultivated, hedges more symmetrically 
shorn, pastures teeming with superior herds and 
flocks, macadamized roads better than any in the 
Campana Felix, brighter and cleaner villages peer- 



WESLEYANS. 



5 



ing out from bowers of living emerald, with spires 
and pinnacles of Gothic church-towers rising over 
clustering elms and evergreens, the music of whose 
bells remind me that 

" This is my own, my native land ! " 



III, WESLEYANS. 

The nearest church at the north, only a mile from 
the base of this elevation, belongs to Lympsham par- 
ish. There my parents worshipped, and the names 
of their nine children stand in the Baptismal record. 
My earliest recollection is that of being borne thither 
in the arms of my father, while he prayed audibly 
all the way. An ardent Churchman, he was also a 
devout Wesleyan. Between the Wesleyans and the 
Church there was neither conflict nor competition. 
They regarded themselves as a society within the 
Church for the promotion of personal godliness. 
So the Rector looked upon them, and in a manner 
supervised their movements as part of his parochial 
jurisdiction. Like a father he counselled them, but 
sought not to restrain their freedom. He hated dis- 
sent, but they were not dissenters. They went to 
the Church for the sacraments, and had no thought 
of forsaking her communion or repudiating her au- 
thority. Not to interfere with the hours of parish 
worship, they had their morning sermon at nine 
o'clock. From the chapel we repaired to the 
church, attended the Sunday-school there in the af- 



6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ternoon, and often returned to the chapel for even- 
ing service. 

Once we had a visit from an illustrious man — 
Dr. Adam Clarke. I saw the great good-natured 
face, and wondered from what world he hailed. 
Not half the people could get into the chapel, and 
many were glad to stand in the aisle or sit upon the 
pulpit stairs. Of the sermon I remember only that 
it was very long, and a neighbor said he had 
" never heard so many Thirdlies in his life." The 
reader of the learned Doctor's discourses cannot fail 
to appreciate the criticism. They bristle with divis- 
ions endlessly subdivided. 

Among the other Methodist preachers of those 
years, the only names I can recall are Hatch, 
Bowes and Billings. I regarded them with awful 
reverence, as messengers from God. One, whose 
name has escaped me, always wept when he 
preached. Perhaps I never failed to weep with 
him. Another was rapid and energetic in his 
utterance, though never loud or vociferous, and his 
tones were like the music of a lute. Often the peo- 
ple said "Amen!" but I never witnessed any 
noisy extravagance. I think it was Mr. Bowes 
who was always attended by his wife. She sat 
behind him in the pulpit, and brought up the 
reserve with a vigorous exhortation. Her husband 
had the voice of a bass drum, which marvellously 
moved the people. One evening, when the whole 
assembly were singing, and my little cousin and I 
were doing our devoutest to help, he looked down 
upon us from the lofty pulpit, and shouted : 



THE RECTOR. 



7 



" That's right, my little boys ! Sing up, my little 
boys ! " And we both sang up, and have been 
singing up ever since. 

IV. THE RECTOR. 

Mr. Stephenson was a good man — loving, faith- 
ful, laborious, indefatigable. Our house being in a 
populous neighborhood a mile from the church, he 
established a weekly service there, and father at- 
tached a book-board to the back of a chair which 
served him for lectern and pulpit. One Sunday 
morning, on his way to Brean, where he was to 
officiate, he encountered a populous camp of gypsies. 
Opening his prayer book, he read a couple of col- 
lects, addressed the wanderers a few minutes, and 
closed by saying: "If you will come with me to 
the church, you shall all have seats, and I will 
preach you a sermon." Except two persons left to 
take care of the wagons, all followed him, joined as 
well as they could in the service, and listened with 
much interest to the sermon. "A strange sight it 
was," the people said— " Brean church half full of 
gypsies, all praying and singing like good Chris- 
tians i ; ' These wretched vagabonds, squalid and 
starving, then roamed the country in large compa- 
nies, camping by the wayside, subsisting chiefly by 
fortune telling, trinket trading, chance charity, and 
any other means available, while no man cared for 
their souls. 

When last in England, I took pains to identify 
the scene of a vivid remembrance. One Lord's 



8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



day, returning alone from Sunday-school, full of 
what Mr. Stephenson had been saying about the 
love of God, I had turned aside into a secluded 
angle of the thorn hedge, and sat down amidst the 
daisies and cowslips. In a mass of fragrant May 
bloom above me, a happy thrush was singing. I 
thought the bird surely loved the dear God, and 
was praising him for his goodness. Then a skylark 
sprang from the grass, and went chanting away 
out of sight toward heaven. In full sympathy with 
both, I raised my slender voice and sang aloud for 
joy. Then, kneeling upon the velvet turf, with 
many tears I poured out my simple heart in prayer. 
This happened in my seventh year ; but in all the 
seventy since, have I ever known a sublimer hour 
with God ? 



V. SERIOUS PLAY. 

ABOUT this time three deaths made a strong 
impression upon my mind. The first was that of 
my grandfather,' who kept the parish school, and 
was much beloved for his gentleness by all the chil- 
dren. The next was that of my Aunt Poole, who 
sang herself through the valley of shadows, and re- 
joiced with exceeding joy in hope of a blessed im- 
mortality. The third was that of a little girl who 
had been my playmate, and I lay awake all night 
in tears, thinking how beautiful she was now in her 
white robe, sitting at the feet of Jesus. 

After this, I had little pleasure in the common 
amusements of children. I made men of clay, and 



EXODUS. 



9 



they died, and with solemn rites I buried them, and 
afterward raised them from their graves to the 
music of a reed trumpet, and sang joyous hymns as 
I sent them on paper wings to heaven. In my 
father's carpenter-shop I built pulpits, and preached 
to him while he was at work ; and sometimes my 
brothers came to hear and help me sing the hymns. 
The Wesleyan hymn-book was my oracle, and I 
could repeat many of the pieces from memory. In 
the New Testament narratives I found delightful 
occupation, and learned whole chapters with sur- 
prising facility. The first book I ever owned was 
Robinson Crusoe — a gift from brother William, who 
bought it for me in Bristol, and wrote on one of the 
fly-leaves in front : 

"Joseph Gross, his book, 
God give him grace herein to look." 

Whether in answer to this pious wish or not, I 
had plenty of grace to look into it, but not grace 
enough to look elsewhere till I had mentally de- 
voured it all. 

VI. EXODUS. 

The date of my d£but on this planet was July 4, 
1 81 3 — the very day I would have chosen — the birth- 
day of a great unknown nation, with whose destiny 
mine was to be identified. Was the arrangement 
providential and prophetic ? Facts must answer. 

In my ninth year — 1822 — father resolved on re- 
moval to America. Never can I forget how my 



10 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



dear mother wept when she signed »the papers for 
the sale of the cottage and little garden. We all 
sympathized with her, though there was a whole 
library of romance in the name of America. Father 
comforted her with the assurance of a better home 
and easier life beyond the sea. Earnestly commend- 
ing us all to God, he took brother George and de- 
parted. 

Three sad years followed. Letters from father 
were frequent, but his success was slow. Came at 
last tidings of purchased land, with a summons to 
the new heritage of milk and honey. " It is all in 
the wild woods," read the letter, "and there are 
some wolves and bears, but they never eat good 
children ; and with the axe and great hatchet, the 
boys can soon hew down the big trees ; and we will 
plant corn, and pumpkins, and turnips, and pota- 
toes, and have a large garden ; and in three or four 
years there will be apples enough, and pears and 
plums." 

What thrills of life were in those words ! What 
eager haste of preparation followed ! Three days, 
and we embarked at Bristol. Uncle William lived 
in that city. He brought a clergyman on board, 
who commended us tenderly to Him who rules the 
sea. As they stepped ashore, the brig loosed her 
hawser. We all lifted our hats and sang : 

" Praise God from whom all blessings flow ! " 

and the grand Old Hundred never sounded sweeter 
to me than it did that moment. 

In the gloaming we were gliding down the Chan- 



EXODUS. 



nel. How beautiful then were the familiar Holmes, 
and the great promontory of Brean Down ! Most 
of us were looking at them for the last time. The 
object that lingered longest on the dim horizon — a 
huge purple pyramid — was our own Brent Knoll. 
Full of gay hopes, we bade it a cheerful adieu, as 
night fell over the waters. The next morning no 
land was visible. Six weeks longer, and nothing 
but sea and sky. No great steam-shuttles then 
wove Britain and America together in six days. 

One calm, clear morning at sunrise, Captain 
Darnell, spy-glass in hand, summoned us on deck 
" to see Peggy milking her cow!" It was New- 
foundland, and with the aid of the spy-glass we all 
saw Peggy. Three days more brought us to 
Quebec. Up the great river by alternate steamer 
and wagon, then through Jefferson and Oswego 
counties to " Onondaga Hollow," occupied another 
week, making the whole trip seven weeks and a 
half. Driving through Salina, we saw a number of 
men at work on a new house. Mother pointed to 
one of them, and said: " Children, if I did not 
believe your father to be in Onondaga, I should 
certainly say that is he ; " and we all said, " How 
much he looks like father ! " An hour more landed 
us at the house of John Bowering — an old English 
neighbor. Here we expected to find the dear 
father. They told us he was at Salina, building a 
house ! No time was lost in fetching him. When 
he arrived, he said he had seen a wagon pass, 
loaded with people, and remarked to one of the 
carpenters ; *' If I did not know it to be impossible, I 



12 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



should say there go my wife and children ! " Was 
there any happiness in this reunion ? Bear witness, 
ye ministering angels ! I could not then think of it 
as a remarkable coincidence, but it occurred on my 
twelfth birthday — July 4, 1825. 

At this time Syracuse was a dirty little village, 
It had a " tavern," and a white wooden "meeting 
house." I think there was a grocery also, a dry- 
goods store, and a blacksmith shop. A dozen men 
were digging a ditch, afterward called Erie Canal. 
" Salt Point " was an older place, of rather more 
comely aspect. "Onondaga Hollow "had a much 
larger population, with better houses and higher 
culture. A weekly paper was published here by 
Mr. Redfield. I went into the printing office — the 
first I ever entered — and saw a boy setting type. 
The rapidity of his movement astonished me, and I 
was anxious to know how he could put his hand so 
readily every time upon the particular letter he 
wanted. His answer was — " I smell 'em." This 
was Willis Gaylord Clarke, the sparkle and pathos 
of whose facile pen, years afterward, gave me 
unbounded pleasure. 

A number of our English neighbors had settled 
in this beautiful valley. They were thrifty farmers 
— most of them Methodists. One was a loved and 
honored friend of my father — George Taylor — a 
local preacher. He, no doubt, was the lodestone 
that had drawn us all hither. A good man, with- 
out much culture, he was a power in the commu- 
nity, and a special blessing to the poor and needy. 
New-comers from the " old country " were always 



EN ROUTE FOR THE FARM. 



13 



welcome at his house, and the many kind offices of 
his family made our brief sojourn delightful to us 
all. To this day the dear old Somerset accent of 
his prayer lingers like a sweet melody in my soul : 
" O Lard, we do think thee, that we may mit 
togither an' washup thee, zitting under our awen 
vine an' figtree, wi' noon to misleast us nor maik us 
afroid." 

VII. EN ROUTE FOR THE FARM. 

OUR new home was to be in Cicero, nine miles 
north of Syracuse, N. Y. The next Saturday saw 
us on our way — a hard journey over a primitive 
road. One brother led a cow, accompanied by her 
calf. Another drove a brace of pigs, whose motto 
was : " Where there is a will, there is a way." With 
a hickory wand, father prompted the oxen that 
drew the wagon containing family and furniture. 
A thunder-storm detained us three hours, and made 
the travelling difficult. Drenched and half drowned, 
we agonized on till darkness overtook us in the 
woods. Myriads of fire-flies — the first we had ever 
seen — danced like angels in the air, but they were 
not half enough to show us the way. At the first 
tenement, we gladly turned in for the night. Even 
to their own discomfort, the good people tried to 
make us comfortable. Before we lay down the 
family sang a hymn, and the patriarch offered prayer. 
With what unction he thanked God for our safe ar- 
rival, and besought him to make the new-comers " a 
saving salt to the whole community!" From that 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



moment I honored Josiah Pierce in my heart as " a 
holy man of God," and never afterward found cause 
to alter my estimate. 

Through the livelong night, flashed the lightning, 
bellowed the thunder, roared the descending rain. 
Such a storm we had never seen in England, and 
our host assured us it was rather uncommon for 
America. Morning dawned with a clearing sky, 
and every heart was happy. " It is preaching day," 
said Mr. Pierce at breakfast, "and the meeting will 
be in my brother's barn ; if you wait till it is over, 
the travelling will be better." Thankfully the sug- 
gestion was accepted. By ten o'clock a hundred 
people had assembled : 

" And the sounding aisles of the dim wood rang 
With the anthem of the free." 

The sermon was a fervid exhortation, under which 
many wept, and there were some hearty amens. 
The orator of the hour was Job Williams — a lay ex- 
horter — who afterward became my faithful friend, 
and his house my second home. 

The service ended, dinner followed, and we re- 
sumed our journey. The remaining distance was 
only two miles, but it consumed the day. The road, 
barely wide enough for the wagon, wound through 
a dense forest. Most of it consisted of transverse 
logs laid in the ooze — floating upon the water. The 
rest was quagmire without soundings. One mo- 
ment we were wedged between trees, the next im- 
paled upon a stump, and all the while floundering 
in unfathomable mud. Several times we had to 



THE NEW HOME. 



lift with levers at the wheels, and once the steers 
required the same Archimedean application. Father 
fretted, mother trembled, and sister Eliza wept. 
The boys bore it philosophically, rather enjoying 
the romance. I sympathized with both parties as 
little as possible. The words of Job Williams were 
still in my ears, and from my heart bubbled up the 
hymn : 

" Lord, how delightful 'tis to see 
A whole assembly worship thee ! 
At once they sing, at once they pray ; 
They hear of Heaven, and learn the way." 

VIII. THE NEW HOME. 

At sunset we hailed with joy a little opening on 
a gravel ridge, glorified with a log school-house. 
This was our Alabama* — kindly offered for occupa- 
tion while building a house. The hall of learning 
was about twelve feet by fifteen. It had a door 
with wooden hinges, two windows without glass, 
an ample fireplace, a chimney, and a garret. In 
the absence of chairs, the benches were a grand con- 
venience, and a well-whittled desk fastened to the 
wall did very well for dining-table. I little thought 
then what intellectual treasures lurked for me in 
those rough-hewn logs, and what spiritual blessings 
awaited my acceptance there. It still stands, just 
as it did that day ; only there is glass in the win- 
dows, and the walls are turned to stone. 



* " Here we rest." 



i6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



The family mansion was soon begun. Half- 
a-dozen neighbors rolled up the logs, skilfully 
notched the corners, drank a bottle of whiskey, and 
christened the architecture Bonaventura. Without 
Timothy Loomis, who had been a school-master in 
Connecticut, that name had hardly been achieved. 
The next day a chimney of plastered sticks was 
added, a well-shingled roof soon followed, and door- 
ways and windows were sawed out, which mother 
hung with sheets and blankets, and we were at 
home. 

A few days after we took possession, mother was 
horrified at the sight of a huge milk-snake, which 
glided across the floor and disappeared under the 
logs. We searched diligently for the unbidden 
guest, but he modestly preferred seclusion. The 
next day my mother was returning from the spring 
with a pail of water ; and just as she passed a bed 
of glowing embers, where a brush-heap had been 
burned, the terrible creature, as if in remorse for 
the fright he had given her, rushed across her path, 
and coiled up crisp upon the coals. At her cries we 
hastened to the scene of the suicide, and found him 
as thoroughly cooked as St. Lawrence upon his 
gridiron. Father said he was eight feet long. It 
was difficult to convince the poor woman that such 
a monster could be harmless ; yet it is pretty well 
established that the milk-snake 'never did anything 
worse than suck a cow or swallow a squirrel; and 
his milk-white skin, mottled with a beautiful brown, 
ought to ensure him immunity from persecution. 
If God has made a handsomer reptile, I know not 



THE NEW HOME. 



17 



where to seek him. William one day brought in 
another, not so pretty nor so innocent — a rattle- 
snake he had slain in the swamp half a mile away ; 
and several more were subsequently found at the 
same place. In their behalf I have not a word to 
say. 

Father bought a load of Indian corn on the 
stalks, and shocked it up not far from the house. 
One morning he found it torn down and trampled 
by some large animal. Investigation revealed the 
tracks of a bear. Two guns were set pointing to 
the corn, with a string attached to the triggers, so 
that Bruin could not come to supper without firing 
upon himself. In the night we heard the report of 
the discharged battery, but dared not approach till 
morning. What we then discovered was a dead 
cub, and the ground savagely torn up all around. 
A few nights later Mr. Loomis shot the dam and 
another cub in his corn-field. 

Amusing, sometimes, are the mistakes of immi- 
grants. A neighbor sent a dozen ears of green 
maize, with instructions to boil till soft. Husks and 
all, mother put them into the pot and boiled them 
some hours, trying them frequently with a fork; 
and, at last, in despair of making them soft, threw 
them to the thankful pigs. The good neighbor 
hearing what she had done, sent her son with 
another mess, telling her in a note to take off the 
outside ; but the boy on the way removed the 
husks, so she cut off the corn and cooked the cobs. 
With a third lot she succeeded better ; but the 
children undertook to cut the cob transversely, and 



i8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



eat it with the corn. Father and George were ab- 
sent at the time, and the rest of us had never seen 
an ear of maize in our lives. 

Mrs. Loomis gave us a watermelon, which we 
devoured with a zest. A day or two afterward, my 
three little brothers and myself were strolling past 
a corn-field, when Aaron looked through the fence, 
exclaiming: " Oh, what a sight of watermelons all 
amongst the corn ! " Then followed a deliberative 
colloquy. It was soberly estimated that there were 
a thousand cartloads of watermelons — more than 
all the folk in Cicero could eat ! What ever would 
Mr. Phelps do with so many ? They were proba- 
bly for the cows and pigs. What a pity such nice 
things should be given to cattle ! Would the pro- 
prietor care if we should take a small one ? At the 
suggestion,. Moses, always first in mischief, sprang 
over the fence, and soon returned with the pros- 
pective luxury. In a fence corner we sat down to 
our feast. Judge of our disgust at the discovery of 
its quality, and the bad grace with which we after- 
ward brooked the nickname of " Green Pumpkin ! " 

House built, and a few conveniences added, eight 
sturdy boys with father attacked the forest ; and 
before cold weather came, we had ten acres of tim- 
ber prostrate, and brush piled for burning. Winter 
brought the school-mistress and abundant snow. 
The mysteries of Arithmetic, Geography and English 
Grammar, made me insensible to the cold. In the 
spring we burned our brush, but the trees lay as they 
fell. No plowing possible, we went about among 
the logs with pickaxes, struck a hole wherever 



THE YOUNG METHODIST. 



19 



there was room, and dropped in the seed corn. It 
shot up at all sorts of angles with the horizon, and 
made the funniest-looking corn-field you ever saw ; 
but Carmel never produced a finer crop, nor the 
fertile plain of Sharon. 

IX. THE YOUNG METHODIST. 

DURING the winter, a Free-will Baptist Preacher 
once a week held forth in the school-house, and 
his sermons took captive the ears of the people. 
They were set to the Eighth Tone Gregorian, as ac- 
curately as the Psalter in St. Paul's Cathedral ; 
verifying the Platonic theory which identified 
thought with melody ; though the charming 
preacher, I suspect, really had little of the one and 
less of the other. 

The opening spring — 1826 — reopened Jonathan 
Pierce's barn, and gave us something better. The 
first sermon I heard there was from Wm. Lull. 
His voice was like the bass of an organ. With 
what " majestic sweetness " rolled its echoes 
through the arcades of hemlock ! " God so loved 
the world ! " That was my favorite theme. How 
like the utterance of an angel that morning it 
thrilled my heart ! And other hearts were thrilled 
no less than mine. A class-meeting succeeded the 
sermon. When asked to speak, I rose and said : 
"'God has touched my heart, and it is his." It was 
all I could utter. I sat down sobbing, and the 
whole assembly seemed deeply moved. At the 
close of the meeting, desiring to be alone, I was 



20 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



hasting away to the woods. Three boys ran after 
me, and said, " We want to go with you." I led 
them far into the forest. At a fallen tree we 
knelt, and one after another poured forth our souls 
in prayer. When the last had finished, we fell into 
each other's arms, and wept a long time. Then, 
rising, we clasped hands in a circle, and solemnly 
promised that we would henceforth serve the Lord. 
Wide since then have been my wanderings, and 
many my follies and my sins ; but the influence of 
that hour, like an angelic presence, has followed me 
through all, saving me from a thousand snares, and 
bringing me ten thousand blessings. 

The next Sunday, with parental approval, I 
joined the Methodist Society. I need not crave 
pardon for the name. There was no Methodist 
Church then in Cicero ; and once, when I inadvert- 
ently so called the Society, a class-leader reproved 
me sharply. Beside me stood the three others, 
ratifying the solemn engagement made in the 
forest. At once I began holding prayer meetings 
in the woods with the young people, energetically 
exhorting them to a better life. Brother William 
was converted, then brother Aaron, later sister 
Eliza, and in a short time nearly all the boys and 
girls of the settlement ; and many of their parents, 
unable to resist the gracious influence that seemed 
to pervade the very atmosphere, came and said : 
<l We will go with you, for we have heard that God 
is with you." Success fired my zeal, every new ac- 
cession gave me fresh encouragement, and my 
whole soul went out after the " unconverted." 



THE YOUNG METHODIST. 



21 



Accidentally I heard a good woman say to a 
stranger : " We have such a young preacher ! a little 
bit of a boy! and he talks like an angel of God ! " 
That almost killed me. How I wished I had not 
heard it! Ia preacher? No! I was nothing — I 
knew nothing — I had done nothing — God had done 
all. What a shame that an ignorant boy should be 
spoken of in that way, and not a word about my 
blessed Savior ! I fled to the woods, and found 
shelter in the loving sympathy of Jesus. But did I 
not love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, 
mind and strength ? I did, or I should have de- 
spaired. I girded up my loins, and went on with 
my blessed work, from house to house, from neigh- 
borhood to neighborhood, trampling upon the 
bruised serpent, and pausing at no obstacle. Prayer 
and praise were more than my meat and drink ; 
and to comfort a desponding soul, or lead a sinner 
to his Savior, filled me with joy unutterable. Well 
furnished with Holy Scripture, I fired it off on all 
occasions. Small of stature, I looked younger than 
I was; and this, no doubt, gave greater weight to 
my words. Strange that I so seldom met with a 
rude repulse. People listened to me as to an old 
man. 

On my mission of love, I went everywhere, and 
wanted wings to go farther. In my abundant zeal, 
I made many mistakes, and sometimes committed 
great blunders ; but the people did not know it, or 
readily pardoned my errors, and pushed me forward 
on all occasions, often putting me up to speak 
when a dozen preachers were present. Once at a 



22 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



camp-meeting I was exhorting the crowd, and all 
were pressing nearer to see and hear the boy, when 
a very large man behind me put his hands under 
my arms, lifted me upon his shoulder, and said : 
" There now, Josie, go on ! " And there I sat 
twenty minutes or more, till I had finished my mes- 
sage from God. Yet I was naturally a timid boy, 
who instinctively shrank from notoriety. Nothing 
but the power of an all-absorbing love could thus 
have raised me above the fear of man, and made 
me superior to the most trying situations. During 
that whole year, was there ever an hour when the 
same Divine impulse would not have borne me 
with Shadrach into the furnace or Daniel into the 
den ? 

The following winter — 1826-7 — I was again in 
school. The facilities were not the very best, but I 
toiled hard to make the most of them ; and what 
my teacher could not help me to, I tried to dig out 
for myself. The daily prayer meeting in the woods 
was revived ; and when dismissed for dinner, the 
greater part of the scholars promptly repaired to 
the bower of hemlock branches. The snow was 
deep, but the path was kept open. Brother Aaron 
shared these labors with me, and they were not 
without good effects. But in February I fell sick 
of a fever, and for a long time lay at the very gate 
of death. Mother wept over my pillow, and father 
prayed earnestly for my recovery. I thought of 
King Hezekiah, and asked them to turn me 
over with my " face to the wall." Then I be- 
sought the Lord to raise me up again. Soon I 



PERSECUTION. 



23 



began to amend, and was gradually restored to 
health. 

I never had any superstitious faith in dreams, 
but dreams there are which seem more than half 
Divine. One night I heard the judgment trump, 
and the sound filled earth and heaven. Half the 
horizon was in flames, and around me sprang up 
the innumerable dead. Angels swarmed, singing, 
in the sky. On a radiant cloud stood my Savior, a 
mile or more in stature, and resembling the purest 
amber. He called my name — and I awoke the 
house with a song of Hallelujahs. Few things 
which I have seen, if any, have ever left so vivid a 
picture in my mind ; and few facts in my life, if any, 
have ever wrought so powerfully upon my mental 
habitude, as this purely ideal scene. 

X. PERSECUTION. 

My horizon enlarged. The summer of 1827 I 
spent at Jasper Hopper's, in Onondaga Valley. 
In dress, manner, culture, and social habit, Mr. H. 
was a first-class gentleman of the olden time. But 
he was aged and infirm, and his son John managed 
the farm. A younger son, George, was about my 
own age, fourteen. He was rough and unprinci- 
pled. From the first, he hated me, because I was 
not in sympathy with his bad practices. A negro 
employed about the house, as vicious as he, and 
viler of tongue, joined him continually in ridiculing 
my religion. The more I remonstrated, the more 
they mocked and insulted. Evidently, it gave them 



24 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



pleasure to grieve me. In tears, I appealed to the 
old gentleman. He rebuked them, and encouraged 
me. This made them very angiy. They vowed 
vengeance, and watched for opportunity. 

One morning, as I was milking in the barn-yard, 
George came upon me with the coach-whip, and 
gave me several severe cuts before I was ready for 
action. I knew that I was the stronger, though he 
was the nimbler. I flung a pail of milk in his face, 
and sprang upon him like a wild-cat. He took 
refuge behind a sled, across which he could reach 
me with the whip, but I could not get at him. 
Some minutes I chased him round the sled, and he 
struck me at every turn. The negro, who had hith- 
erto stood laughing in the stable door, now rushed 
forth, shouting: " Give it to him, George ! Give it 
to the little Methodist coward ! " This was too 
much for a militant churchman. I plucked a stake 
from the sled, leaped over the barrier, and cleared 
the field at a stroke. George ran to his brother, 
and reported that I had assaulted him with the 
sled-stake. His brother believed him and thrashed 
me. 

Now Satan triumphed. Nothing of Christ was 
left in me. I thirsted for revenge. I fretted like a 
chained tiger. Give me a chance, they should see 
whether I were a Methodist coward. The devil 
had possession of me, soul and body. George kept 
cautiously out of my way. This gave me time for 
reflection. Conscience awoke, and scourged me 
with scorpions. Most shamefully I had fallen. 
Worse than Simon I had denied my Savior. Could 



PERSECUTION. 



25 



I ever forgive myself? Ought I ever to be for- 
given ? After Christ had been so good to me, thus 
basely to dishonor him ! I sank into despair. 
Three days I hid myself, fasting and praying with 
many tears. Then came peace, with assurance of 
pardon. Very sweet and tender was the restored 
communion with Christ. It was a long time, how- 
ever, before I recovered my full strength and confi- 
dence. 

The enemy had not yet given me up. One day, 
as I was riding a horse to water, the negro sprang 
out from behind a bush, and shook a buffalo-robe 
in the animal's face. Frightened, he ran, and threw 
his rider. My head struck a rock, and I lay some- 
time in a stupor. A doctor came and bled me. A 
fortnight passed before I fully recovered from the 
shock. This time, I was not angry. My peace 
flowed as a river. The negro was discharged. 
George was first frightened, then ashamed. 
Divinely avenged of my adversaries, like Bunyan's 
pilgrim I went forward singing: " Rejoice not 
against me ! oh mine enemy ! when I fall, I shall 
arise ! " 

This variation of a monotonous life proved a 
healthful discipline for the soul. I needed the test, 
and it came at the right time. But it was not yet 
over. " Mine enemies marked my steps." On a dark 
night the negro followed me unseen, and in a lonely 
place knocked me down with a club. I might have 
been killed, had not a man passing heard the strug- 
gle and come to my help. 

It must have been a month later, when my hercu- 



26 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



lean brother John came to see me. I told him the 
whole story, and tears filled his eyes as he an- 
swered : " Joseph, you know I have not much relig- 
ion, but I have enough for that negro. You have 
not deserved such treatment, and there shall be no 
more of it. You go on serving the Lord ; I'll do 
your fighting." He went away, and the next night 
that slave of Satan got such a dressing as no darky 
ever received, except from an overseer. I cannot 
say I was sorry for him ; and even George Hopper, 
who had now got his eyes open, rejoiced in the 
retribution. 

In these troubles I was not alone. To persecute 
the Methodists was a fashionable amusement. I 
heard one of the devil's champions boast how he 
had " thrashed the preacher at the foot of his pul- 
pit." Such acts of violence were not our greatest 
trials. Often we were " in perils among false 
brethren." A young man came to the village — Ira 
Wilcox — a licensed exhorter — full of zeal and good 
works, and as brave as he was faithful. I fell in 
love with him at once. He was eight years older 
than I ; but our two hearts beat in unison. So 
pure was he, so devout, so intellectual, it was some- 
thing like heaven to be with him. I told him all 
my troubles, and in his room we often prayed 
together. He had many books, and among them 
Clarke's Commentary on the New Testament, just 
published — a great help to me, as well as himself. 
I went with him to the country school-houses, 
where he held forth the word of life. One Sunday 
morning he prayed very earnestly for " backsliders." 



EDUCATION FOR THE MINISTRY. 



27 



Probably there were more than one present, and 
certainly there was nothing personal in the prayer. 
But Arthur Pattison thought otherwise. He was a 
huge mass of Irish muscle surcharged with Irish 
temper. As we rose from our knees, he sprang to 
his feet. His face was crimson, and his clinched 
fist swung frightfully. Fast and fierce came his 
words, after this fashion : 

" I am a backslider. I don't often come to meet- 
ing. When I do it is not to be insulted. I am 
insulted this morning in the house of God. I don't 
mean the boy there ; I mean the man that's hiding 
his face with his handkerchief. He ought to hide 
it. We've had such persons here before. I make 
no doubt he's got a bottle and a pack of cards in 
his pocket. Why does he come here to abuse his 
betters. Beware, young blackguard ! When I 
meet you outside, I will show you how much of a 
backslider I am ! " 

Here the class-leader interfered, and Demosthenes 
subsided. Brother W. remained perfectly calm, and 
took less notice of his assailant than of the fly that lit 
on his nose. He afterward joined the Oneida Con- 
ference, and did good service for many years as a 
Methodist preacher. 

XI. EDUCATION FOR THE MINISTRY. 

Onondaga Valley belonged to Marcellus Cir- 
cuit. John Kimberlin was Preacher in Charge, and 
Joseph Baker was his colleague. The latter said 
to me : " Brother Joseph, you are to be a preacher. 



28 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



We all know that God has called you to the 
work. Brother Kimberlin has taken a great fancy 
to you. He wants to carry you home with him, 
and educate you for the ministry." This was 
grand! What better could happen to me? With 
much humility and self-distrust, I carried the mat- 
ter to God, and prayed over it till Brother K. came 
round again. He was a large man, of fine personal 
appearance, and spoken of as an excellent theolo- 
gian. I was afraid of him, and dared hardly open 
my mouth in his presence. 

My education for the ministry began in the 
carriage, as we drove toward Dryden. The first 
lesson came in the form of a problem : " Why do 
the fore wheels go round oftener than the hind 
wheels?" Abashed and confused, I answered: 
" It must be because they have farther to go, 
crooking round in the mud holes." " You are a 
bright young man for a preacher! " was his reply; 
" don't you think the size of the wheel has some- 
thing to do with it ? " I saw the whole thing in a 
moment, and was much ashamed. Then he asked 
me many questions about Inspiration, Justification, 
the Holy Ghost, a Call to the ministry. I answered 
timidly, with much hesitation. Next he inquired 
when and where I was converted. I did not know 
— thought I had always been converted — must 
have been before I was born. " Boy, are you a 
fool?" he exclaimed. "If you don't know when 
and where you were converted, you have not been 
converted at all ! " This roused me, and I told him 
the whole story of my life. I must have been 



EDUCATION FOR THE MINISTRY. 



2 9 



talking a long time, when I heard something like a 
suppressed sob ; and looking up, I saw great tears 
rolling- down his noble face. He threw his left arm 
around me, and said in a choking voice : " Joseph, 
you have been converted — no mistake about that 
— you have been converted ! " 

The second day after our arrival in Dryden, he 
gave me my second lesson, in the form of an axe 
and a large maple tree. A new way, thought I, 
of educating a young man for the ministry. But 
I had faith in Methodist preachers- — something 
better would come by and by. Besides, my present 
occupation furnished me a fine opportunity for my 
peculiar method of theological study. For a year 
past I had been accustomed to store my mind in 
the morning with texts for meditation during the 
day ; and whenever alone, I preached aloud. Now, 
with Adam Clarke to help me, and John Wesley, 
and many other authors, I ought soon to become a 
preacher. So I read, and chopped, and preached ; 
and preached, and chopped, and read ; and thought 
if there was a happier soul beneath the sun, I 
would like to make his acquaintance. 

One day, having felled a large tree, and mounted 
it, axe in hand, to cut it off, I became unusually 
interested in my solitary sermon. Having quite 
forgotten everything else, I was walking up and 
down the tree, preaching vociferously and weeping 
amain, when a slight noise like a suppressed cough 
suddenly recalled me to consciousness, and I looked 
round to see if I might not be observed. Within 
thirty feet of me, two men with folded arms, were 



30 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



leaning over a fence, and their faces were streaming 
with tears. I waited for no words, but disappeared 
as soon as possible. My hearers had been hoeing 
corn in the field, and were attracted by the sound of 
my voice. It was a single instance of many, which 
caused me much mortification. Being near-sighted, 
I was often heard by unseen hearers, and these 
exercises were sometimes misinterpreted to my dis- 
advantage. 

Autumn came, and the district school-master con- 
tinued my education for the ministry. Thinly and 
shabbily clad, I cared but little for the cold, and 
made fair proficiency in my studies. Regularly, 
" at noontime," I led the boys to a clump of young 
pines, a quarter of a mile from the school-house, for 
prayer; and during the winter, a number of them 
were converted, some of whom grew up to be good 
Christian men. 

Spring returned ; and in pursuance of my edu- 
cation for the ministry, I was sent to the woods 
to boil maple sugar. Solitary and alone, boil- 
ing and preaching, preaching and boiling, only 
returning at night for rest, I continued there three 
weeks. Then, suddenly, I was taken very ill of a 
fever, from the effects of which I hardly recovered 
in the next three months. This brought me to 
another turn in the road of life, and varied a little 
the method of my training for the ministry. On 
my fifteenth birthday — 1828— I began keeping a 
diary, writing religious verses, and constructing 
skeletons of sermons. Some time before, I had 
read the Pilgrim's Progress ; and now, with varia- 



EDUCATION FOR THE MINISTRY. 



tions, I wrote it all out in measured rhyme, and 
called the production a poem. 

My Reverend Patron was now on the Dryden 
circuit, and it was convenient for him to take me 
with him sometimes to his appointments, and 
make me exhort after his sermons. This was often 
a sore trial to me, but it was a new stage in my 
education for the ministry^ and so far as he was 
concerned it was the last. His agency having 
failed so signally, I took the matter into my own 
hands. I had read the saying of Poor Richard in 
the almanac : " 

" He that by the plow would thrive, 
Himself must either hold or drive ;" 

and, quite sure that it was applicable to the plow- 
ing that most concerned myself, I resolved on do- 
ing both. 

In Ithaca was a pretty good academy. If I 
could find a family there for whom I might do 
work enough to pay for my board while pursuing 
my studies, it would be a grand thing for me. 
With that view I visited Ithaca. Dr. George Peck 
was in charge of the station. He treated me very 
kindly, made me speak to his people at the Sunday 
evening service, and promised to do what he could 
in finding such a home as I desired. Nothing 
came of it, probably because he had no opportunity. 
At that time, however, he was over head and ears 
in controversy with Dr. Wisner on the five points of 
Calvinism. His young brother, Jesse T. Peck, was 



32 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



living with him, and attending the academy. He 
had just been licensed to exhort, and was going 
into the country the next Lord's day to test his 
ability in that line. At his request, I accompanied 
him, and followed his discourse with a ten-minute 
speech and a prayer. He seemed exceedingly green 
and awkward ; but afterward became an eminent 
preacher, scholar and Bishop. With its new 
acquaintances and experiences, this visit had an im- 
portant bearing on my education for the ministry. 

XII. CAMP-MEETINGS. 

I WENT to a camp-meeting, over which Gleson 
Fillmore, whom they called Boanerges, presided. 
A band of ruffians came on the ground, with the 
avowed intention of breaking up the meeting. 
They numbered about twenty, organized under a 
desperado whom they called captain, every man 
armed with a stout club three or four feet long. In 
good military order, they marched through the gate, 
and advanced toward the stand. With six others, 
the Presiding Elder went forth to meet them. One 
of the preachers was six feet in stature, and of pro- 
digious strength. The captain, flourishing his 
mace,, swore he would clear the ground. Our Her- 
cules stepped forward, and said quietly : 

" My friend, could you take up a barrel of salt 
with your teeth, and throw it over that fence ? " 

" No," answered the captain fiercely, and with a 
bad word, " nor any Methodist preacher among 
you ! " 



CAMP-MEETINGS. 



33 



" Perhaps not," meekly answered Hercules, " but 
there is one of us who can throw you over." 

Then with a quick motion he stooped, thrust his 
head between the legs of his adversary, rose erect 
with his astonished rider, and pitched him back- 
ward over the barrier, as helpless as a kitten. His 
comrades broke line, and fled the field. 

It had been announced that on the following 
morning we should have the Lord's Supper. Two 
bottles of wine for the occasion had been deposited 
in the preachers' tent. When the solemn service 
was about to begin, it was discovered that the wine 
was gone. The Presiding Elder announced the 
fact, and made a very impressive use of it in the 
sermon which followed, characterizing the theft as 
sacrilege. When the evening sermon closed, and 
the usual prayer-meeting was beginning, the ruffian 
gang were seen again, coming in a compact body as 
at first. The Presiding Elder quietly marshalled 
his forces; divided them into two companies ; and 
sent the one outside, and around to the rear of the 
rowdies, while he advanced with the other to meet 
them. In anticipation of a second attack, this 
stratagem had been preconcerted. At the right 
moment, the shout was raised in the enemy's rear : 
" They are coming ! run, boys, or we shall all be 
taken!" The ruffians ran, but found the gate 
manned by overwhelming odds. Surrender at dis- 
cretion was the only practicable measure. The 
whole gang were placed under guard and kept till 
the meeting closed. Then they were duly pro- 
ceeded against, some heavily fined, and others sent 



34 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



to prison. I think these twenty were all the real 
" mourners " I saw at that camp-meeting. 

I went to another. George Gary was there, the 
silver-tongued orator for God ; and Charles Giles, 
the sweet singer of our Methodist Israel ; with a 
score of others, less distinguished. Here the spirit- 
ual element greatly predominated, and more than a 
hundred souls were said to be converted. On the 
evening of the second day, an incident occurred 
which some thought had much to do with this 
grand result. A young preacher of a peculiar order 
of imaginative eloquence, which a certain set of 
young people did not like, went out in the twilight 
to study a sermon for the following day. Four of 
the young men referred to followed him. One of 
them seized him by the collar and threw him down, 
crying out : " We've got you now ! Give him hell, 
boys ! " He returned to the camp badly bruised, 
but not beyond the ability to preach on the morrow. 
Seeing the young men who had beaten him sitting 
by themselves in the farther part of the audience, 
he made good use of his opportunity. Describing, 
one after another, the various sophistries and strat- 
agems by which Satan deceives and ensnares young 
men, and drags them down to perdition, he gath- 
ered the spirits of darkness about the gate of the 
pit, seizing each unhappy wretch as he arrived, and 
rushing away with him through leagues of sulphur- 
ous flame, shouting : " We've got you now ! Give 
him hell, boys ! " The picture was enough to 
appall the stoutest heart; and as the wild demoniac 
refrain came in with increasing emphasis at the 



TEETERTOWN. 



35 



close of each successive paragraph, there went up a 
cry of terror from the vast assembly ; and when the 
offer was given as the sermon closed, no one that 
knew the facts was surprised to see those four 
young men the first on their knees for prayer. 

XIII. TEETERTOWN. 

SUCH was the name of a well known Methodist 
neighborhood in Lansing. The autumn, 1828, 
found me there at a quarterly meeting. With Tal- 
mai Hamilton, a very pious lad about my own age, 
whom I had met some months earlier, I was pretty 
well acquainted. His father's house was the home 
of the preachers, and there I was entertained. Sat- 
urday morning I went to his uncle's, near the 
church. The matron was much engaged with prep- 
arations for company. A handsome man called 
about half-past nine o'clock. She bade him wel- 
come, and went on with her work. " We are look- 
ing for the new presiding elder," she said ; " he is 
to preach at eleven, and I have much to do." 
" Give me a knife, sister," replied the stranger, 
" and I will help you peel the potatoes." Thanking 
him, she put a knife in his hand, and was as- 
tonished at his dexterity in its use. " We have not 
yet seen the new presiding elder," said the good 
woman ; " but they tell us he is a wonderful 
preacher, and I would not miss hearing him for 
anything. How glad I am you happened in ! " 
With his help, the culinary preparations pro- 
ceeded apace. Eleven o'clock came, and great was 



36 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the wonder that the presiding elder had not arrived. 
I could have explained the mystery, but the 
stranger had recognized me, and given me a cau- 
tionary signal. Knowing that there would be some- 
body to preach, all repaired at length to the place 
of worship. The expert . potato-peeler walked into 
the pulpit, and to the great delight of a large 
audience preached an instructive and beautiful 
sermon. 

Such an artifice was nothing new with Gary; and 
it was always so gently done, and had so sweet a 
grace of native modesty and quiet mirth, that the 
eccentricty was never offensive, but the humor of 
the innocent finesse carried with it a peculiar charm 
in keeping with the character of the man. At 
eighteen years of age he had an appointment to 
preach near Schenectady. An immense multitude 
had assembled in the open air. It was time to be- 
gin, but where was the preacher? A young 
stranger, who had a serious look, was sauntering 
about, with his hands behind him, in the outskirts 
of the crowd. He was asked if he would not ad- 
dress the people. It was a pity, they said, that so 
large an assembly should be altogether disappointed. 
Yes, the young man replied, he would speak a few 
words. He took the platform; and, after singing 
and prayer, gave out as his text : " There is a lad 
here with five barley loaves and two small fishes, 
but what are they among so many ? " He had not 
proceeded far, when his hearers began to suspect 
that their preacher had arrived ! 

Not long after this, George Gary joined the con- 



TEETERTOWN. 



37 



ference. He was wanted for a very important posi- 
tion, and a strong petition to that effect was sent 
to the Bishop presiding. Not having heard him, 
the Bishop doubted the expediency of the appoint- 
ment. An arrangement was made for him to 
preach before the conference, the Bishop and his 
cabinet being in the audience. The young candi- 
date, discovering them sitting all together back near 
the door, and shrewdly suspecting a plan of which 
.he had no information, announced for his text the 
words of Joseph to his brethren : " By the life of 
Pharaoh, ye are spies." I need not add, the Bishop 
made the desired appointment. 

Ordinarily in the pulpit, Gary was quiet and un- 
impassioned ; but under some unusual stimulus of 
subject or occasion, he now and then displayed a 
power of eloquence hardly surpassed even in those 
days of fervid and demonstrative Methodism. I 
have heard and read of a sermon which he preached 
at a camp-meeting in Danby, not far from Ithaca, 
in 1827 ; when the wave of emotion that swept over 
the assembled thousands was something quite 
peculiar, and the number of conversions resulting 
was unprecedented. The preacher had just buried 
his wife, his best faculties were roused and conse- 
crated, the sympathy of the vast audience was with 
him, and the anointing of the Holy Spirit made the 
word in his mouth " the power of God unto salva- 
tion." 

I remained at Teetertown, and found a good 
home in the family of John Bowers, a very pious 
old German. Diligently I devoted myself to books 



38 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



under the tutorship of Edwin G. Bush. An excel- 
lent friend he proved himself, taking great interest 
in my mental development. I wrote much, de- 
claimed more, and won some notoriety in my nar- 
row range by certain dramatic achievements. 

One of my special friends was David A. Moore. 
We were about the same age, but he was much 
larger than he ought to have been, and I as much 
smaller. Hannah More's David and Goliath be- 
hooved to be enacted. He, of course, must be the 
Philistine, and I the Israelitish shepherd boy. Hav- 
ing duly cut off his head, I carried the crimson 
trophy, on the point of his own sword, up and 
down the stage, singing my own song of triumph, 
and eliciting great applause. My success was a 
snare to my soul. I was Kean ; I was Garrick. 
Intoxicated with histrionic fame, I forgot my closet, 
wrote more plays than sermons, and read Shakes- 
peare oftener than the Bible. 

A stranger, I had taken no part here in public 
worship, carefully avoiding all invitations. One 
Sunday morning, Dana Fox occupied the pulpit. 
How beautifully he preached ! At the end of the 
sermon, he called on me to pray. I was surprised 
and disconcerted. But I began, and God poured 
his love so sweetly into my heart that I knew not 
where to stop. When at last I said amen, the 
whole assembly began to sing, and the meeting con- 
tinued an hour after it was closed. When I came 
home, the dear old Dutchman, who had arrived be- 
fore me, met me in tears at the door, exclaiming: 
" O Shoseph ! you bray so coot ! Now no more you 



TEETERTOWN. 



39 



must pe packshlided ! So coot you bray, O Sho- 
seph ! " Very deeply touched by his words and his 
tears, I resolved that they should not be lost upon 
me. With new zest I resumed my religious duties, 
and my warm-hearted teacher strengthened my 
hands in the Lord. 

The preacher in charge of the circuit was William 
Cameron, a crabbed old Scotchman. He came to 
spend the night with the good old German couple. 
That was nothing new ; the preachers often lodged 
there, and were never unwelcome. It did not occur 
to me that this visit was on my account. Having a 
previous engagement to take part that evening in a 
dramatic entertainment some miles away, I excused 
myself and left. Returning at midnight, I found in 
my room a letter of four foolscap pages from the 
old Scotchman — and such a letter! Bitterly he 
complained of my ingratitude and neglect. He had 
come, he said, on purpose to see me, and I had left 
him for a foolish and ungodly frolic. Was it not 
shameful? How could I justify such treatment of 
a minister of Christ? W r hat must people think of 
my profession? It was plain to see how much my 
religion was worth. I was not sincere. I had no 
moral principle. I preferred the service of the 
devil to fellowship with the servants of the Lord. 
I had better give up all pretension to religion, and 
no more deceive the world by claiming to be what 
I was not. 

How those cruel accusations stung me! Howl 
writhed and agonized under the scourge ! Did I 
deserve it? Was it true? I knelt down, and 



4o 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



" spread the writing before the Lord/' and asked 
him to judge between the angry old man and me. 
Then I wrote an answer, protesting my innocence 
of the imputed motives, and begged his pardon in 
terms of abject penitence. I told him I had not in- 
tentionally treated him with discourtesy, and could 
not have remained at home without violating my 
promise and disappointing many people. 

I had no sleep that night. I wept and prayed 
till morning. When I offered him the paper, he re- 
fused to accept it, saying : " If you have any apol- 
ogy to make, you can do it without writing ; " then 
turned away, and left the room. I slipped the 
paper into the pocket of his overcoat, which hung 
in the hall. He soon after put on the coat and de- 
parted. I followed him to the door, and bade him 
adieu ; but he made no response, and refused my 
offered hand. I am not sure that I ever saw him 
afterward. In a few years he went to meet his God. 

XIV. TOAD HOLLOW. 

THE name has no special euphony. It was the 
primitive designation of a place since called South 
Onondaga. No more toads there, I think, than 
elsewhere. The village was hidden in a valley just 
large enough for it, and walled in on three sides 
with picturesque hills. There was a pretty little 
meeting house in the centre, with a steeple and a 
bell. Once a fortnight George Densmore made it 
musical with a voice singularly rich and mellow. 
He preached very good sermons, in a sort of swing- 



TOAD HOLLOW. 



41 



ing cadence, fraught with a peculiar pathos. In 
this sort, nobody but Zachariah Paddock excelled 
him ; and Zachariah Paddock was the prince of 
Methodist preachers, and the most faultless of men. 
Disgusted with my education for the ministry by 
John Kimberlin, and the tomahawk tenderness of 
William Cameron, I had brought my one talent 
in a napkin hither for burial. Where could I find 
a better refuge from the stings of envy and the 
strife of tongues ? 

With Owen Seeley — 1829 — I engaged for six 
months' service on a farm. Mr. Seeley had half a 
dozen young men in his employ. They read bad 
books and sang vile songs. Not more earnestly 
did Noah preach righteousness to his antediluvian 
neighbors, than I preached purity to those young 
men, and Noah's remonstrances were not more 
fruitless than mine. At last I bought the detest- 
able trash, and burned it before their eyes. After 
that, it was easy to persuade some of the boys to 
go with me to the House of God. Two immedi- 
ately became very serious, and before the summer 
was over the last one had " cast in his lot with the 
Lord's people." 

At Christian Hollow — now Cardiff — three miles 
from Mr. Seeley's — I had a friend whom I loved as 
my own soul. Ten years my senior, a licensed 
exhorter, and a most devoted Christian, he took 
great interest in my spiritual welfare. Often I 
spent the greater part of the Lord's day with him, 
and accompanied him to his distant appointments. 
David and. Jonathan were not better friends. He 



42 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



insisted that I should at once begin preaching-. 
But I had no license. Never mind ; that would 
come in due time. But I had no education. No 
matter ; I had intellect ; and, with my habits of 
study, the work would be my best schooling. But 
what assurance had I of a call to the ministry ? 
The best in the world — my love of souls — my zeal 
for Christ — the blessing which always attended my 
speaking.. But what if I should fail ? Would it 
not be a disgrace to Christianity? Failure was 
impossible — God could not fail — I had his word 
and his power to fall back upon — with such a spirit 
as mine, no young man ever yet failed — my failure 
would be the first since Christ began his king- 
dom. 

Thus John Sniffm scattered my objections like 
chaff, and obtained my consent to an appointment 
at Pompey Hill. It was two weeks ahead, and I 
had time enough for reflection. My God ! what 
had I done? Promised to preach, and not licensed 
even to exhort ! Was I not rushing into the jaws 
of the Hon ? "I humbled my soul with fasting." 
I cried night and day to the Lord. I thought of 
countermanding the appointment. Then with what 
assuring sweetness came the word to my heart : 
" Fear not, for I am with thee ! " I was strong! 

On the morning of my sixteenth birthday — July 
4, 1829 — I was up and out at daybreak — milking my 
cows, grooming my horses, with a hundred seolian 
harps in my heart. With winged steps I hasted to 
Christian Hollow. Heaven and earth were new 
that morning. I had launched my little bark for 



TOAD HOLLOW. 



43 



eternity. " My God ! I am thine forever ! " was 
the burden of every breath. John Sniffin was 
ready. " God bless you, my boy ! " he exclaimed, 
" How early you have come ! " We knelt together 
a few moments in his bedroom ; and then — too 
full for words, but not for tears — we set forth for a 
walk of thirteen miles. Three times, before we 
reached our destination, we turned aside into the 
woods for prayer. All the way I was ascending 
Jacob's ladder. The "Stone School House" was 
full of people, and there were more without than 
within. Ask me not how I preached. I do not 
know. I hardly knew who was preaching. There 
was no consciousness of effort. All wept amain. 
The sermon is the first in OLD WlNE AND NEW. 
I was home in time for my evening work, con- 
scious of no fatigue, and the happiest of human 
souls. No one knew that I had walked thirty-two 
miles that day, and preached my first sermon. 

The next Sunday I was again at Pompey Hill, 
with a still larger hearing. To say that the sermon 
was a success were something short of the truth ; it 
was a triumph. The three following Sundays, I was 
at Tully, Preble, Fabius. During the remainder of 
the summer, I extended my range, and had more 
invitations than I could accept. Whenever prac- 
ticable, my faithful friend accompanied me; but 
could seldom be persuaded to do more than follow 
with an exhortation, or close the meeting with 
prayer. When the cold weather came, he insisted 
that I should take up my winter quarters with him, 
and attend school at Christian Hollow. We had an 



44 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



excellent teacher, and I profited no little by his 
instruction. But in January I was prostrated by a 
fever, and obliged to desist from my studies, and 
discontinue all public labors. When I recovered 
in the spring, I felt that I had lost something of 
my former fire and energy, and feared that I might 
never be able to speak again with the freedom and 
unction of my first sermon. This inertia, however, 
was wholly physical. The spiritual life was whole 
in me, and I wanted but the occasion to restore 
the old stimulus. 

XV. NEW RELATIONS. 

On the first of April, 1830, I set forth on foot 
for my father's house in Cicero. Entering the 
woods of the Indian reservation through which lay 
my road, I turned aside and sat down upon a rock, 
to review the past and renew my strength by 
prayer. It was a solemn and holy hour. What 
awaited me in the future, I knew not. I had no 
plan. I was in the hands of God. There I rested 
calmly. I asked him to guide me and choose for 
me. I promised to be wholly obedient to his will, 
and give myself up more entirely than ever to the 
work he wanted me to do. What peace then and 
there flowed into my heart, and what sweet assur- 
ance of security! 

About five o'clock I found myself among dear 
old friends in Salina. The two circuit preachers 
were there — Wright and Barnes. They said 
they were glad I had come, as they were about 



NEW RELATIONS. 



45 



to begin a protracted meeting, and to-night would 
be the first service. Would I not preach the initia- 
tory sermon ? They would give everything up into 
my hands, and I should do just what I pleased. I 
shrank from such responsibility, and was about to 
decline, when I recalled my promise of the morning 
in the Indian woods. So I said I would speak to 
the people, but they should do everything else. It 
was a time of refreshing. Backsliders and luke- 
warm souls were wonderfully stirred up, and there 
was a delightful confluence of loving and faithful 
hearts. The meeting continued three weeks, and 
I remained till it closed. The result was a large 
accession to the feeble society in Salina. 

I was now licensed to exhort. Brother Wright 
said: "You must not leave us. We go to-morrow 
in a body, to Fayetteville. God will bless your 
labors there, as he has blessed them here. You must 
remain with us." I accompanied them to Fayette- 
ville. The success there was greater than at Salina. 
There were said to be over a hundred converts. 

The third week was closing. It was ten o'clock 
Saturday night. Brother Wright came into my 
room and said: "Brother Joseph, my appointment 
for to-morrow is at Satan's Kingdom. The interest 
here is too great for me to leave it, and I can't 
spare Brother Barnes. There were sixty-three for- 
ward for prayers to-night — among them Esquire 
Thompson and the schoolmaster. Do you think I 
ought to go ? " 

"'I do not," said I, "but what can be done for 
Satan's Kingdom?" 



46 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



" Joseph, you must go ! " he answered very 
solemnly. If he had struck me on the head with 
a bludgeon, the shock could hardly have been 
greater. Of myself in connection with the case, I 
had not conceived the shadow of a thought. I 
began to tremble violently. My strength failed me. 
I sank upon a chair, sobbing and stammering like a 
frightened child. Brother Wright was a very pop- 
ular preacher and greatly beloved. Of standing in 
his place I could not think for a moment. " It is 
all arranged," he continued. " Oscar and Edwin * 
are to go with you. Horses are provided, and you 
are to ride Patrick Henry. Come, let us pray." 
We knelt, he put his arms around me, and with 
great tenderness implored the blessing of Heaven 
upon the morrow. Rising, I said — " I will go ! " 

He retired. Oscar and Edwin entered. They 
were recent converts, warm in their first love, both 
thinking of the ministry. We talked the matter 
over, and knelt in prayer. As we rose, Edwin 
said : " Joseph, this is glorious ; God will give you 
victory to-morrow ! " 

" He has given me victory to-night," I answered 
— " victory over my worst enemy — Joseph Cross." 

" And to-morrow," added Oscar, " he shall bruise 
Satan under your feet." 

They left me. I prayed till midnight, and slept 
till sunrise. Early we were in saddle, with a ride 
of eight miles before us. I said to my companions : 
" Brethren, we must not talk, but pray all the way." 



* Oscar North and Edwin Brown. 



NEW RELATIONS. 



47 



Silently we rode, and the great black horse beneath 
me seemed an angel with wings. As we reached 
the brow of the hill that looked down upon our 
battle-field, I saw in spirit the prince of darkness, 
with all his bannered host, advancing to meet us. 
Aloud I called on God for help, and my companions 
heartily said " Amen." 

Something about this Satan's Kingdom my 
reader demands to know. It was a notoriously bad 
settlement, lying on the Erie Canal, about fourteen 
miles east of Syracuse. A man lived there whose 
name was Huntley — an atheist and a blasphemer. 
He was probably about forty years old, and the 
most influential man of the neighborhood. He had 
read the "Age of Reason," and the words of Vol- 
taire and Volney dropped like adder's poison from 
his tongue. The preachers avoided him, and he 
seemed to feel himself master of the field. There 
was but one person in the place who made any 
pretension to religion ; and his, as he afterward con- 
fessed, " was but a painted flame." 

Arriving at the school-house, which was a large 
one, we found such a throng at the door that it was 
somewhat difficult to enter. As we pressed through 
the crowd, I heard some one say: " If that is the 
preacher, he's not likely to give us much trouble." 
The place was so packed, that there was not stand- 
ing room left for another. The windows, three on 
each side, were open ; and people, head over head, 
were leaning in at them all. After a few moments 
of silent devotion, Oscar gave out a hymn and 
offered prayer. Edwin announced another hymn, 



48 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



and read the sixth chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to 
the Romans. The reader may think it strange, but 
I had not selected a text, simply because my heart 
was too full of prayer. The last verse of the lesson 
struck me as the very word I wanted : " The wages 
of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life 
through Jesus Christ our Lord." 

That apostolic statement was clear as a sunbeam. 
I had carefully studied its meaning. In my solitary 
sermons I had often dwelt upon it with interest. 
And now I spoke with perfect ease. An angel 
could not have been more free from perturbation. 
But the thoughts I uttered were such as I neverhad 
before. It seemed to me as if God were breathing 
through my organs upon the people. Nearly an 
hour the stream flowed on without a pause, and every 
eye was weeping. Never since have I been conscious 
of so Divine a calm. Often have I tried to write 
out what I then said ; but the thought was beyond 
me, and the language I could not recall. If God 
did not speak that day, by me he has never spoken. 
I have no fanatical theory of modern inspiration, 
and yet I am unable psychologically to account for 
that hour's experience. Setting down the facts 
without conscious exaggeration or coloring, I leave 
them to the reader. 

Closing my discourse, I requested all who desired 
our prayers to kneel down. Instantly the whole 
assembly were on their knees, and many fell upon 
their faces. Three hours w T e continued in supplica- 
tion, and more than a score rejoiced aloud in the 
personal assurance that " the gift of God is eternal 



NEW RELATIONS. 



49 



life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Conspicuous 
among these was Mr. Huntley. " Till this hour," 
he said, " I believed your religion was all a delusion 
or a lie ; now I know it is neither. I scouted the 
idea of a personal God, and madly blasphemed his 
name; now I feel his hand upon my heart, and am 
sure that for Christ's sake he has pardoned all my 
sins." Then he cried out : " Oh, my sins ! my aw- 
ful sins ! but the blood of Jesus has washed them all 
away." 

He invited us with him for dinner, and a crowd 
accompanied us to his house. There we had another 
hour of prayer and praise. As fast as we could, we 
rode back to Fayetteville, and it was late when we 
arrived. I reported to the preachers, and their joy 
was unbounded. They told the tale in the pulpit, 
and the effect was wonderful. A scene which beg- 
gars language I will not attempt to describe. 

The meeting was transferred to Satan's Kingdom. 
All our batteries were brought to bear upon the 
works of the devil. The result was a triumph, and 
a large society was organized. Afterwards, the 
preachers always put up at Huntley's, and his house 
became one of my favorite resting places. The con- 
verted atheist was as active in the service of Christ 
as he had been under his old master. Of the latter 
years of his life I had no personal knowledge j but 
not long ago I was informed by one who knew him 
well, that he had maintained a constant Christian 
character, and died triumphing in the Captain of his 
salvation. 

The reader will recollect that I had left Christian 



So 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Hollow to return to my father's house. It was 
only twenty miles, more than two months had 
passed, and I had not yet reached my destina- 
tion. The preachers said I must remain with them 
— there was work enough for all. This, I thought, 
was Providence. I felt greatly humbled, and the 
vows of God were upon me. North Manlius Circuit 
was to be my battle ground for Christ. My whole 
soul was in the work. These good men were my 
best friends. Every one encouraged me. A horse 
was procured for me by subscription. Two brethren 
presented me with a new suit of clothes. A hatter 
sent a boy after me, as I passed his house, with a 
fur hat tied up in a yellow silk handkerchief. The 
good sisters made me shirts, collars, and white cra- 
vats — knit socks and gloves for me — cautioned me 
against " spiritual pride "—prayed that I might not 
fall into any snare of the devil. So I " thanked God 
and took courage." This went on some months. I 
preached every day, often twice a day, and thrice 
every Sunday. That I should go home, was not 
very necessary. My needs were well supplied. 
Whenever within easy reach on a Lord's day morn- 
ing, father and mother were sure to be among my 
hearers. I was never fatigued. Labor was rest, 
and pain was sweet, because my Savior was with 
me. The desire to make others acquainted with his 
salvation absorbed my whole being. My constant 
prayer was : 



THE STUDENT. 



51 



" Enlarge, inflame, and fill my heart, 

With boundless charity divine ; 
So shall I all my strength exert, 

And love them with a zeal like thine ; 
And lead them to thy open side, 
The sheep for whom their Shepherd died ! " 

XVI. THE STUDENT. 

On a certain occasion, when I had a large audi- 
ence, and ought to have been in my best preaching 
mood, I was painfully conscious of a paucity of 
thought and a consequent want of power. This 
gave me much concern. What was the matter ? I 
knew no physical cause. Had the Lord withdrawn 
his Holy Spirit ? I had neither neglected my de- 
votions, nor wickedly departed from my God. But 
some reason there must be, and that reason must 
be found in myself. I instituted a rigid self-analy- 
sis, and prayed earnestly for light from above. 
This method soon solved the problem. The fail- 
ure was clearly attributable to my own ignorance. 
I could say nothing, because I knew nothing to say. 
My friends had acted injudiciously. Out of the 
purest love, they had put me forward without due 
preparation. What I needed was more knowledge 
and mental culture. 

George Densmore now came to the charge of the 
circuit. In his judgment and friendship I had 
great confidence. Without reserve I opened to him 
my heart. I was right, he said ; I must go to school, 
but need not quit preaching. In Syracuse was an 
excellent classical school — the very place for me. 



52 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



He would see what could be done — was sure he 
could raise the needed funds on the circuit. I had 
about fifty dollars in my pocket, and the sale of my 
horse would bring me a hundred more, and the sad- 
dle and bridle at least twenty-five. Good Mrs. 
Phillips, who kept a large boarding-house, agreed to 
board me very cheaply. 

In a few days I was at school. Our Latin mas- 
ter—Mr. Bellows — was often as full of liquor as of 
Latin, and he never taught so well as when he was 
five-fourths drunk. I had Natural Philosophy also, 
Chemistry, Astronomy and Mathematics. The sec- 
ond session, Greek was added, with Logic, Rhetoric, 
Mental and Moral Science. I enjoyed excellent 
health, and was never tired. In essays and decla- 
mation, I generally bore the palm. There were never 
less, I think, than seventy-five boys in the school. 

During this period I zealously kept on preaching 
— two sermons every Sunday. Many young peo- 
ple were awakened to a concern for their souls. 
Among these were two daughters of my friend, 
Mrs. Phillips — about seventeen and fifteen years 
old. They had a brother some years older, whose 
profligate manners were a great grief to his mother. 
One evening, with some twenty others, the sisters 
came forward for prayers. As they knelt down, 
their brother entered at the door, and rushed for- 
ward to the desk where I stood. Brandishing a 
large knife, he swore that he would cut my heart 
out. Several brethren seized him, and the weapon 
was wrested from his hand. In the struggle he fell 
down, and strong men held him there while I 



THE STUDENT. 



53 



descended and prayed for him. At the close of the 
meeting the girls were both rejoicing in their 
Savior. I said to him : " Here, Mr. Phillips, take 
your sisters and escort them home ! God has 
blessed them, and I hope he will bless you ! " One 
on each arm, he walked away with them as gentle 
as a cosset. Probably the next day some of his 
wild comrades had rallied him on his defeat. When 
he came in to dinner he seized the carving knife 
from the table and rushed violently upon me. I 
raised a chair for a shield and escaped out of the 
room. He subsequently asked my pardon, and 
ever after treated me with more respect than I 
merited. 

William Jerome was a rich Methodist preacher, 
residing six miles west of Syracuse. I heard it 
alleged that he had not won his wealth in the most 
honorable way. It gave him influence, though he 
was more feared than loved. In my absence, at a 
quarterly conference, he made a cowardly attack on 
me. Had not George Densmore stood forth as my 
champion he might have done me irreparable harm. 
The young man, he said, was ambitious and con- 
ceited. The people were spoiling him with flattery. 
He went to the largest places and best churches. 
He took regular texts, and preached systematic 
sermons. Only an exhorter, one might think him a 
Doctor of Divinity. He was rising too fast. The 
best thing to be done for such a youth was to put a 
stone upon his head. When all this was reported 
to me it gave me great distress, and I carried the 
matter to God. 



54 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Meantime, my money was all spent, and these 
unfriendly acts might prevent the contributions of 
those who had been well disposed towards me, and 
had promised to help me through. At least, 
nothing had been raised for my need. Good Mrs. 
Phillips prayed over it night and day. She after- 
ward confessed that she had bought two lottery 
tickets, expecting to draw a prize, which was to be 
devoted to my education. All this tended to my 
mental depression and discouragement. I preached 
every Sunday at Onondaga Hollow, imagining that 
no possible good could come from such heartless 
performances. But God was leading the blind by a 
way which he knew not. Six years afterward, in 
passing through Onondaga Hollow, I stopped for 
rest and dinner at the hotel. The clerk told me 
there was a great meeting in progress at the Metho- 
dist church. It was winter ; and completely wrapt 
with furs, I crept in, and remained hidden in a 
corner. Quite sure I was that no one recognized 
me. I had been there but a few moments when 
one arose and related how, under the preaching of 
Brother Joseph Cross in that house six years be- 
fore, he had been led to Christ. This gave the 
key-note to the meeting, and seven others in im- 
mediate succession told the same story, every one 
of them ascribing his conversion under God's mercy 
to my labors in that season of my sorrow and 
despair. I stole out as secretly as I had entered, 
and never afterward learned that any one knew the 
traveller, nor have I any reason for believing that 
a single person there was aware of my identity. I 



THE STUDENT. 



55 



set this down as an instance of God's great good- 
ness to me, and an illustration of the mysterious 
manner in which he often deals with his servants ; 
encouraging them still to trust in him, however 
dark the day — however wild the storm. 

A friend, Hiram Judson, the jeweller — advised me 
to go to the seminary at Cazenovia. The trustees 
agreed to trust me for my tuition till I could pay 
for it by school teaching. Mrs. Wilson, who had a 
large school for young ladies, furnished me a room 
and board ; for which I milked the cow, fed the 
pigs, cut the wood, made the fires, swept the school- 
house daily, and ran on errands for a family of 
thirty school misses and four teachers. All this 
I did through one whole session, and never lost a 
lesson, nor fell behind my class. Every Sunday I 
had an appointment in the country, to which I was 
generally attended by some one of my fellow- 
students. William Ward Ninde made us a visit, 
charming all by his eloquence, and transfusing my 
whole being with a divine ambition. 

Invited to sit up with a young man who was 
dying of consumption, his sister brought me her 
album, a new one, with a request that I would 
write a few lines in it during the night. Having 
only to keep up the fire and give medicine once in 
two hours, I had plenty ol time. I began at the 
beginning, and before morning filled the volume to 
the last page with verses, more pious than poetic, as 
the reader may well imagine. It was a naughty 
thing to do ; but the good girl was highly pleased 
with the poem, and treasured it as a precious thing. 



5 6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Prepared for teaching, I found a school, and soon 
was able to pay for my tuition. While teaching I 
kept up my studies, and recited regularly to a tutor, 
Professor McEwen. Few college students, I im- 
agine, made better progress; and none, certainly, 
knew better the cost of his intellectual acquisitions, 
or how to turn them all to practical account. 

XVII. THE LOCAL PREACHER. 

I WAS now licensed to preach, but did not offer 
myself to the conference. I wanted a better chance 
for study than the itinerancy would afford me. In 
Salina I had a large school, and taught there a year, 
preaching every Sunday evening. There were 
three circuit preachers, and one or another of them 
was there every Lord's-day morning. The man in 
charge was goodish, but uninteresting. The others 
were ambitious, but few cared to hear them. This 
certainly was not my fault, but they evidently 
thought it was. Absalom had stolen the hearts of 
the people away from the king. They agreed 
together to overthrow me. I soon gave them an 
opportunity for the attempt. I preached on the 
words of Saint Paul: " Of whom I have told you 
often, and now tell you, even weeping, that they 
are the enemies of the cr.oss of Christ." I addressed 
myself at once to the young, of whom I saw a large 
number before me. I told them how I had hitherto 
tried in vain to win them to Christ. I had endeavored 
to make religion attractive to them by its pleasures 
and rewards. I had reasoned with them of right- 



THE LOCAL PREACHER. 



57 



eousness, and urged God's claim upon their hearts 
and lives. I had dwelt much upon the Divine 
promises, explaining and amplifying them, and 
presenting many remarkable instances of their 
fulfilment. I feared I had not been faithful to their 
souls, in reproving their vices, showing them the 
danger of procrastination, and portraying the terri- 
ble consequences of a life of folly and sin. I had 
resolved on a new course for the future. I could 
not suffer souls to perish for whom Christ had 
died. How could I meet them in the judgment, 
if I did not faithfully warn them ? In this strain I 
went on some time. Then, opening the Bible, and 
laying my hand upon it, I exclaimed: "O my 
God, who knowest all my heart, I appeal to thee ! 
If thou hast sent me, let my words now be written 
in Heaven ! In this thy house, before these thy 
people, with my hand upon thy Holy Book, I 
solemnly swear that I will no more shun to de- 
clare to these sinners all thy counsel. I will no 
more consult their taste, nor fear to offend them. I 
will show them thy anger. I will pursue them with 
thy thunders. I will grasp their robes at the gate 
of hell. If they perish — bear witness, ye angels — 
their blood shall not be found with me ! " The 
effect was instant and awful, and many young 
people dated their first effectual religious impulse 
from that hour. 

Never were two holy men more horrified than 
the two junior " circuit riders." They lost no time 
in canvassing the community, and gathering infor- 
mation from all quarters. Their first effort — dis- 



53 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



tinctly avowed — was to break up my school and 
drive me from the place. Many good persons tried 
to dissuade them from their purpose. They would 
hear no counsel. Their holy indignation boiled 
over, and put out their own fire. My friends rallied 
bravely to my support. My enemies changed the 
plan of their campaign. They formulated against 
me a charge of blasphemy, and presented me for 
trial at the next quarterly conference. Then I knew 
that God had confounded the counsel of Ahitho- 
phel. Their iniquity returned upon their own 
heads, and their violent dealing came down upon 
their own pates. One of them immediately left the 
circuit, and soon after quit the ministry. The other 
preached but a few times more in Salina, then 
repudiated Christianity altogether, and became an 
infidel lecturer. Later, I heard of him in London, 
as doing effective work for the devil in that metrop- 
olis. For many years he devoted himself to this 
sad business, but at last renounced his errors, and 
sought orders in the Church of England. I think he 
never obtained his end, but died penitently trusting 
in the Savior he had formerly dishonored and 
blasphemed. His name was Barker. 

The end of the year was at hand. A dear friend 
at Oswego — the Rev. Albert D. Peck — wished to 
observe it, according to Methodist custom, as a 
" Watch-night." A fortnight in advance he wrote, 
requesting me to come and preach on the occasion. 
I prepared a sermon on The End of Time, and 
elaborated it to the utmost of my ability. It was 
my first attempt at committing to memory a sermon 



THE LOCAL PREACHER. 



59 



I had written. On New Year's Eve, I met my 
friend at the church door, to help him " watch the 
old year out and the new year in." The service 
began at eight, with devotional exercises which 
continued till nine. Then I stood up and said my 
sermon, word for word, as put down upon the paper 
in my pocket. But it was cold as a stone, and dead 
as a corpse. I thought I had disgraced the Gospel, 
and crucified my Savior afresh, by an utterly heart- 
less performance. How gladly would I have es- 
caped unobserved through the window behind- the 
pulpit ! That was impossible. Brother Peck pro- 
ceeded, according to his programme. Many pre- 
sented themselves for prayer, chiefly young men, 
and the devotions lasted till midnight. Silently, I 
hastened to my lodgings, found it difficult to pray 
before I lay down, slept not a moment between 
that and morning, left my chamber with the earliest 
appearance of daylight, and drove out of Oswego 
resolved never to enter the place again. 

Eight years after this, I was called — I knew not 
why — a distance of many miles, to marry a young 
Methodist preacher whose praise was in all the 
churches. The bridal pair were personally strangers 
to me. Ceremony and salutations over, the bride- 
groom asked me if I remembered a sermon on the 
End of Time I had preached at a watch-night in 
Oswego eight years before. " Oh, yes ! " I answered, 
" I shall never forget that sermon ! " " Nor I," said 
he, " for that sermon was my salvation ! " He 
proceeded to tell me that he was then a student at 
law in Oswego, had gone that night with a friend to 



6o 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the Methodist church, the sermon held him as with 
an iron grasp from beginning to end, at the close he 
presented himself with others for prayers, from that 
hour changed his whole character and plan of life, 
soon afterward connected himself with the church, 
laid aside his Blackstone and took up the study of 
Christian Theology, and that watch-night had made 
him a new creature and a messenger of grace. This 
took the curse off of Oswego and the bitterness 
out of my heart ; and taught me a lesson of trust in 
the goodness and faithfulness of God, which has 
been the tidal wave to lift me over many a sandbar 
in many a stormy sea. That young man is to-day 
a brilliant preacher and distinguished divine, occu- 
pying a very important and useful position in the 
militant kingdom of Christ — the Rev. J. N. Mur- 
dock, D. D., of Boston. As John Summerfield said 
on a similar occasion, " These are comfortable fruits 
of our ministry." 

XVIII. AN EVANGELIST. 

In the autumn of 1833, I was on a journey 
through Oswego county. Around an unfinished 
new house, by the wayside I saw a concourse of 
people, evidently in much excitement. Some were 
bearing chairs into the building, and others arrang- 
ing benches outside. Inquiring what it meant, I 
learned that a Rev. Mr. Dare, a wonderful man of 
God, was carrying on a great revival here, and the 
people were being converted by scores. Horse and 
rider both tired, I accepted an invitation to stop 



AN EVANGELIST. 



61 



and hear a sermon. Entering, I saw Mr. Dare sit- 
ting behind a table upon a carpenter's bench. 
Recognized by some one, my presence was reported 
to him , and he came down, and invited me up to 
his pulpit. There seated, he requested me to 
preach for him. Always ready, I did not decline. 
After the sermon, " the angel did wondrously," and 
I began to see with what sort of sorceries he had 
bewitched the people. He got two long benches 
filled with penitents, and called on Deacon Jasper 
to pray. Deacon Jasper stood and began. He had 
said but a few words, when Simon Magus cried : 
" To your knees, Deacon ! you look like the 
stack-pole of hell stuck up there ! " The deacon 
dropped on his knees, and continued five or six 
minutes in prayer, when Simon Magus shouted : 
" Stop ! Prayed long enough ! Get up ! " As all 
rose to their feet, with a severe look he thrust his 
index-finger into the face of the frightened deacon, 
and growled : " Don't you ever make such a long, 
cold prayer as that again in my protracted meet- 
ing ! two such prayers would freeze hell over ! " 

A few other marvellous manoeuvres, and the assem- 
bly was dismissed. Much wondering, I went with 
Mr. Dare to dinner. He lived in a fine house, 
elegantly furnished, with an ample library, and a 
costly cabinet of gems and curiosities gathered from 
many lands. He talked like one who had travelled 
extensively, and seen foreign capitals, and learned 
much of men. " Mrs. Dare " was a beautiful 
woman, who spoke French better than English, and 
said she understood Spanish and German as well. 



62 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Both insisted on my preaching again in the evening, 
and remaining with them for the night. 

After the second sermon, Mr. Dare again manned 
his " anxious seats," and went about scolding and 
commanding like a sea-captain in a storm, while his 
crew obeyed with manifest fear. To one of his 
penitents he said : " Are you willing to go to hell 
the next minute, if it is God's will to send you 
there?" The poor fellow could not say that he 
was. u Then you are still in rebellion against God," 
was the rejoinder, " and you'll never be converted 
in that state." To a woman who was sobbing 
aloud, he exclaimed : " Your heart is not half 
broken ; you'll sin again to-morrow with as much 
zest as ever ; you'd better go home and sleep an- 
other night in your filthy bed over the mouth of 
hell, before you come here to mock God with 
crocodile tears ! " 

It was easy to see where lay the great strength of 
this Samson. Hell, more than Heaven, was the 
inspiration of his ministry. His " new measures " 
were startling and terrific, but his conversions could 
not be profound and effectual. With many misgiv- 
ings I journeyed on my way, and questioned much 
whether I had not made a mistake in preaching for 
him. 

A year passed. He came to Salina, and asked 
permission to preach. It was a very remarkable 
sermon. He illustrated the case of an awakened 
sinner by that of a horse-thief, hiding by day, trav- 
elling by night, with many strange manoeuvres to 
elude the officer in pursuit. This comparison was 



AN EVANGELIST. 



63 



continued through a large portion of the discourse ; 
and so ingeniously was it conducted, that I could 
not help thinking the preacher must have been in 
that situation himself. 

Three weeks later, I saw a paragraph in a Utica 
newspaper,, saying that a man calling himself Dare, 
and professing to be a minister of the Gospel, had a 
fortnight before hired a horse and sulky in that city 
for a trip of two days, and had not since been heard 
from. Not long after, we learned, through the 
same sheet, of his capture in southern Pennsylvania. 
The sheriff had traced him to a country church, in 
front of which stood the horse and sulky, while the 
fugitive was preaching within. Having finished his 
sermon, he came down and baptized half a dozen 
converts, and the officer afterward arrested him at 
the door. He was sent for five years to the state 
prison in Auburn. In the last of those years, I was 
pastor of the Methodist Church in that city. The 
superintendent of the prison was John Garrow, one 
of my stewards. At his request, I went and 
preached sometimes to the convicts. On one of 
those occasions I said to him : " There is a man I 
know ; his name is Dare." He asked me what I 
knew about him ; and I gave him the narrative now 
given the reader. 

Mr. Garrow then added some further history of 
this remarkable man. When he came to the insti- 
tution, the superintendent asked him, as was cus- 
tomary, what work he would like to do. " That 
of a gentleman," was his prompt reply. But there 
were no gentlemen there ; all were workmen ; he 



6 4 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



must have some occupation. "I am a clergyman," 
responded Dare ; " that has been my profession for 
many years." They had no business of that sort 
for him, and this was not a matter for trifling. 
" Well," rejoined the convict, " I can run a saw-mill, 
if you have one for me ; if not, I don't know what 
I can do for you." That could be readily furnished. 
He was taken to the wood-pile, and presented with 
a buck and a saw. As Garrow left him, he was 
overheard to say, with an oath, he was " not going 
to mind that little bald-headed Methodist ! " This 
indiscreet utterance brought him to the grinding- 
stone, where he was kept till he begged for mercy. 
Just then another convict said to the superintend- 
ent : " I can tell you what to set Dare about, Mr. 
Garrow." " What do you know of him?" Mr. 
Garrow asked ; and the convict answered : 

" Dare and I travelled up and down the Missis- 
sippi ten years together, and Dare preached, and I 
stole horses, and we went snucks. He was not a 
licensed preacher, and never had been , but he 
could be Baptist, Methodist, or Presbyterian, to 
suit the community where we happened of a Sun- 
day ; and I have known him to put on the surplice, 
and perform his part as well as the best of them with 
the Prayer Book. But at Natchez, Miss., he was a 
little imprudent in the use of whiskey, and the 
sheriff nabbed us both, and we got five years in the 
penitentiary, and worked together in the same shoe- 
shop, and Dare can make you as good a pair of 
shoes as any man in this institution." 

Garrow put him into the shoe-shop, and there he 



THE ITINERANT. 



6 5 



continued at work, along with his old penitentiary 
companion, till his five years expired, and he was 
discharged. Subsequently Mr. Gafrow resigned 
his charge, and made a trip to the west. On his 
return I met him, and he told me this story : 
On landing from a steamer at Quincy, 111., he went 
into a hotel, and was registering his name, when a 
man stepped up behind and tapped him on the 
shoulder. Turning round, he exclaimed: "Ah, 
Dare ! are you here ? " " For God's sake," in a gut- 
teral whisper answered the other, " don't call me 
Dare ! I'm the Rev. Elihu Johnson, pastor of a Bap- 
tist church just back here in the country — eight 
hundred dollars a year, and a very good parsonage. 
That's better than my old occupation — perhaps less 
profitable in a pecuniary way, but more honest, you 
know ; and I trust my five years with you were 
not without some good effect upon my Christian 
character. For Heaven's sake don't expose me ! " 

From Dare I never heard anything further ; but 
for many years I retained the copy of Phillips' 
Speeches, which he had given me as a souvenir of 
the two sermons I had preached for him ; and it 
grieves me to add, as in truth I am bound to, that 
the charming woman who made me so welcome at 
his house was another man's wife. 

XIX. THE ITINERANT. 

I NOW abandoned school-teaching, and gave my- 
self wholly to the work of the ministry. A year 
with William Ward Ninde at Pulaski and Washing- 



66 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



tonville was one of spiritual growth and encourag- 
ing success. His gentle and noble spirit had a fine 
effect upon my impulsive and fiery nature, while 
his peculiar eloquence greatly stimulated my divine 
ambition. It was like a bird singing in a storm. I 
have heard some of the best pulpit orators in 
Europe and America, but I never heard another 
who touched my heart as he did. There was no 
effort, nor appearance of self-consciousness — nothing 
but the natural breathing out of what was in him. 
It was poetry without its form — the very soul of 
sweetness, flowing from a heart transfused with love 
divine. 

Sometimes, under the inspiration of a special 
occasion, he seemed transformed and glorified by 
his theme ; and wave after wave of impassioned 
thought rolled over the great audience, with the 
power and sparkle of a mighty tide. Once, at a 
camp-meeting, I saw five or six thousand sit spell- 
bound for an hour beneath the waving of his wand ; 
and when he ceased, they still sat there, silent and 
weeping, and would not leave the place ; and dur- 
ing the remaining three days, the sweet influence 
seemed to pervade the vast assembly, as if they 
had heard the voice of an angel. 

A happy instance of his easy adaptation it was, 
when he went to Rome, and discoursed from the 
words of St. Paul : " As much as in me lieth, I am 
ready to preach the Gospel to you that are at Rome 
also." Who that was present can ever forget his 
picture of Jonah entering Nineveh, of Moses 
ascending Mount Sinai, of David playing the evil 



THE ITINERANT. 



6 7 



spirit out of King Saul, or of the fire-crowned 
champions of the crucified at the first Christian 
Pentecost ? 

In a just and noble sketch of this remarkable man, 
Dr. Dempster makes special mention of his peculiar 
faculty in prayer. In this respect he was hardly 
inferior to Jeremy Taylor, though his prayers were 
entirely extemporaneous. Many instances occur 
to my memory, of which I will mention but one. 
At a camp-meeting near Mexico, another had 
preached the evening sermon, and Ninde knelt 
down to offer the closing prayer. Raising his hands 
and eyes, in that full round voice which was never 
surpassed in sweetness, he began : " O thou who 
kindledst these twinkling stars ! " and in the next 
sentence we caught the rustle of celestial wings 
amidst the foliage ; and as the prayer proceeded, 
we found ourselves standing with Moses upon 
Pisgah, the whole promised inheritance before us, 
Hermon, and Hattin, and Tabor, and Olivet, and 
the very place of the Oracle ; and every heart 
seemed to respond to the aspiration — "Oh ! let me 
go over this Jordan, to see the good land, and that 
goodly mountain, and Lebanon ! " 

One Sunday, when I was with him at Pulaski, he 
preached on the text: " Awake, thou that sleepest, 
and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee 
light." As he proceeded, a cloud rose in the west 
and rapidly darkened over the heavens. Soon the 
lightning grew vivid, and the thunder became 
terrible. Now a tremendous peal made the house 
vibrate to its foundations. " I will pause," said the 



68 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



preacher, "for God is speaking." Bowing his head 
upon the pulpit, he remained a few moments in 
silence. Pale and trembling, many fell upon their 
knees. A bolt shivered a neighboring pine. The 
preacher rose, and said : " It is but the hiding of 
his power. Hear him while he speaks in mercy. 
He will soon speak in judgment. Who can abide 
the day of his coming? Who can stand before an 
angry God?" And so for twenty minutes he rode 
upon the storm, and played its artillery upon the 
enemies of the Lord. 

Returning to the parsonage, I took his little boy 
upon my knee, and he and I held a colloquy like 
this : " Willie, where have you been ?" " Been to 
church." " Whom did you see there ? " " See 
Papa." " What did Papa do ? " " Papa do so "— 
imitating his action in the pulpit. " What did 
Papa say ? " " Papa say, O wicked sinneh, mus' be 
good boy." The incipient theologian was then 
about two years old. He early reduced his lesson 
to practice, became a learned man, a wise educator, 
a Doctor of Divinity, and one of the Methodist 
Bishops. With such a father, the result was almost 
natural. Daily familiar intercourse with that pure 
and noble mind, at the very commencement of my 
mission, was both hallowing and elevating. I regard 
it as one of the chief blessings of my life, and have 
never ceased to thank Heaven for a year of inti- 
mate fellowship with William Ward Ninde. 

Daniel W. Bristol came to Washingtonville. A 
good young man he seemed, but sad and gloomy^ 
He wandered about alone, and refused to be com- 



THE ITINERANT. 



69 



forted. One day he told me, that he wanted to be 
a minister, and could not see his way. I brought 
his case forward, and he was duly licensed to 
exhort. Fluent, poetic and intellectual, he suc- 
ceeded well, and soon developed a cheerful and even 
mirthful spirit. " The true medicine for a broken 
heart," he used to say, " is to be found only in the 
pulpit." "But what if the broken heart be a 
woman's?" I once responded; " would you have 
her preach for its cure?" "No," was his reply; 
" I would have her marry a preacher." And so she 
did! 

Bristol and I boarded together at Dr. Goodwin's. 
At the table we sat opposite each other on the right 
and left of the Doctor. Alternately he asked each 
to say grace, putting his hand on the knee as a 
signal. One day accidentally he got a hand on 
each of his chaplains, and both at the same moment 
began the blessing. We stopped, nodded to each 
other, and both began again. Again we paused, 
exchanged nods, and set to once more in concert. 
" Halt ! " cried the Doctor ; " three times and outi " 
then proceeded to say grace himself. The whole 
thing was ineffably ludicrous, and all present burst 
into loud laughter. Extremely mortified, I ran 
away to my room, and fell upon my knees to pray. 
The Doctor in a few moments came after me, 
and found me flat on my face in convulsive 
laughter. "It was only an accident," said he; 
"come back to your dinner ! " But for that day I 
fasted. I have never since seen two persons meet 
each other on a sidewalk, and both turn out the 



70 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



same way, without a vivid recollection of that scene. 
Bristol developed good pulpit abilities, took the 
best places in the conference, became a Doctor in 
Divinity, and after fifty years of successful work 
died beloved and honored by his brethren. 

One hot day about the last of July, I went into a 
meadow where a number of men were mowing, 
took a scythe, and said, " How many of you can 
keep up with me ? " That came near being my last 
mowing. I went through the field, and fell. They 
picked me up and carried me home. The Doctor 
called it sun-stroke. In about half an hour, I broke 
out in blisters all over, as if a whole hive of bees 
had stung me. Perchance that preserved my life. 
I was very ill for a few days, and then began to 
recover. 

But I had hardly regained my former strength, 
when I imprudently accepted an invitation to a 
" fishing bout " — an amusement of which I was 
always very fond. I waded in the water, and 
caught many black-bass, and a great yellow eel, and 
a far more formidable cold. But Providence takes 
care of children, drunkards and fools. 

About this time I read a number of books which 
made a strong impression upon me. One of these 
was Pollok's COURSE OF Time, a large portion of 
which I retained many years in my memory. 
Another was Dick's Philosophy of a Future 
STATE, which gave me a variety of new ideas, and 
marvellously quickened my mental faculties. " As 
the hart panteth for the water brook," so panted 
my soul for the author's succeeding volumes. With 



THE ITINERANT. 



avidity I seized them as they issued in rapid succes- 
sion from the press, and read them all with unabated 
interest. But the one volume which more than all 
others, Holy Scripture excepted, won my heart and 
influenced my life, was Holland's Life OF SlJMMER- 
FIELD. The biography might have been better 
done, but every word in it of Summerfield's own 
was to me worth a mine of gold. The purity of 
that heart, the sanctity of that life, the close com- 
munion with God, the self-consuming zeal to save 
the souls of men, wrought in me such admiration, 
such desire to be like him, such thirst for the foun- 
tain whence all was derived, that I became intensely 
dissatisfied with my own poor spiritual attainments, 
and could not rest till I had consecrated myself 
more completely than ever to the grand object of 
the Christian Ministry. The book was borrowed 
and out of print, and I feared I might never meet 
with another copy. So I transcribed everything in 
it that I cared for — every utterance of the dear 
young saint — every extract from his diary, letters, 
sermons, with the account of his death, and what 
the press said about him, and preserved the manu- 
script many years, reading it afresh whenever I 
found my heart growing cold, and never without a 
special revival of my spiritual energies such as no 
other mere human production ever wrought in me. 
Oh, how often have I had occasion to thank God 
for the simple and beautiful Christian character of 
John Summerfield ! 

These were days of controversy. Every Metho- 
dist preacher felt himself " set for the defence of 



72 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the GospeL" To drive away all false doctrine, was 
no less a duty of his divine vocation than to make 
known the truth as it is in Jesus. Universalism* 
was a heresy everywhere rife, and two or three of 
its champions were especially troublesome in these 
quarters. Challenged by one of them to a public 
dispute at Watertown, the redoutable Luther Lee 
smote through crest and helm of his antagonist, and 
held him three days quivering upon the point of 
his spear, and the poor fellow could never afterward 
recover the confidence of his adherents. Josiah 
Keyes met another of them in Oswego, and for a 
whole week they fought like a bear and a bull-dog, 
and both won the victory. Keyes was good at the 
Greek, which gave him no small advantage ; but 
his voice was about the roughest I ever heard, and 
his manner was as savage as a Comanche war-dance. 
In his closing speech, he drew an ideal picture of 
the judgment scene, in which his pathos reached 
the acme of its severity. " Then shall the King 
say, with a voice sweeter than all the lutes of 
Heaven," — were his words — " Come, ye blessed of 
my Father," etc. His emphasis on the " Come," 
drawn out to four times its usual length, struck his 
adversary much as it did his audience ; and, spring- 
ing to his feet, the Universalist exclaimed: " Such 
a come as that would scare them all down to hell ! " 

One Sunday evening, as I entered the pulpit, I 
received a note from the Universalist minister in 
these words : " Please preach on this text — Isa. 



* The belief that all men will be saved. 



THE ITINERANT. 



73 



xlv. 24 — ' Surely shall all say, In the Lord have I 
righteousness and strength.' " I read the note to 
the people ; and then, opening the Bible, said : 
" Let us see how well the prophet agrees with Mr. 
Wilson : ' Surely shall One say, In the Lord have 
I righteousness and strength.' The words, you 
observe, are all the same except One, and that One 
makes all the difference between Mr. Wilson's ver- 
sion and the original. And now, that we may know 
of whom the prophet is speaking, we must read 
what immediately follows the text : 1 Even unto 
him shall men come, and all that are incensed 
against him shall be ashamed.' Who can this 0?te 
be but the Messiah? But Mr. Wilson's ingenious 
and original version changes one to all ; and so, to 
be incensed against him is to have righteousness 
and strength in him, and to be ashamed is to be 
saved. This makes the Scriptural proof of univer- 
salism very easy. You have only to change here 
and there a little word, and apply to all mankind 
what is written of Christ, and the proof is complete. 
But the question remains to be answered, whether 
he who thus perverts and falsifies the word of God 
can be either a reliable teacher of religion or a safe 
guide in morals." Then I proceeded to show that 
this is the usual method of sustaining universalism, 
that the system contradicts all just conceptions of 
God and his government, and that its moral ten- 
dency is even worse than the logic of its advocates. 
Whether Mr. Wilson was translated or annihilated, 
I do not know ; but, certainly, I never saw or heard 
of him again in that neighborhood. 



74 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Beside the preachers already mentioned, I must 
name a few others now entered on my list of 
friends. There was David H. Kingsley, whose 
loquacity was sufficient to run a saw-mill ; Schuyler 
Hoes, who preached very effectively, hurling other 
men's thunderbolts like a child at play ; Nathaniel 
Salsbury, who put his adjectives after his nouns, 
and so was said to preach in blank verse ; Gardiner 
Baker, whose discourses were as sweet as the dulci- 
mer and as monotonous as the drone of the bag- 
pipe , Isaac Puffer, who often preached two hours, 
and quoted from memory two hundred scriptures, 
specifying chapter and verse , John Dempster, who 
had all the elements of true oratory, marching upon 
his high places like a cyclone on the mountains, 
gathering up everything and bearing it heavenward ; 
and Azariah Hall, a gentle and loving spirit, who 
this year finished his course with joy, falling asleep 
in Jesus as calmly as a babe upon its mother's 
breast, with his last breath dictating the message to 
his distant friends that " Azariah had gone to rest ! " 
From all these I derived some good, and still I 
remember them all with a tender and holy love — 
some as brilliant examples to be copied — some as 
beacons to warn me of rocks and shoals — some as 
icebergs unapproachable, only to be gazed at with 
wonder from a distance — all means of grace and 
teachers sent from God, for which, O Father of 
lights ! I thankfully bless thy providence. 



MEXICO CIRCUIT. 



75 



XX. MEXICO CIRCUIT. 

The next year I was sent, as junior preacher, to 
Mexico circuit. This comprehended the whole 
territory north of Oneida Lake to Pulaski, thirty 
miles in length, with an average width of twenty 
miles. My colleague — Anson Tuller — was an ex- 
cellent and most amiable man, who did all in his 
power to make my work pleasant. During the 
whole year, there was but one unhappy passage in 
our intercourse, and that came and went as a sum- 
mer shower. For some mismanagement, purely the 
result of a mistake, he chid me so kindly that I 
loved him the more for the chiding. We had 
thirty-two preaching places ; and each preached 
three times on Sunday, and once every other day 
in the week, except Saturday. The country was 
new, the roads bad, the rides long, the people gen- 
erally poor, and the " quarterage " * hardly worth 
counting. Many of the log houses where we lodged 
consisted of a single room, which served for all pur- 
poses. In one of these, there were wide openings 
between the logs at the head of my bed ; and once, 
on a January morning, I awoke to find the snow 
four or five inches thick on the blanket that 
wrapped my head. 

Amidst all these labors and inconveniences, I 
continued my classical studies. My Latin and 
Greek texts were constantly with me, occupying 



* The quarterly stipend of the preacher. 



7 6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



every moment I could spare from other duties. I 
read as I rode ; and sat down in a fence corner, or 
under the shadow of a tree, to write. In the fields 
and the woods, with birds and squirrels for com- 
panions, I spouted Cicero and Demosthenes. In 
winter or bad weather, with half a dozen vociferous 
household darlings around me, I pursued my work 
at the fireside, where the good mother was peeling 
potatoes and baking biscuits for the preacher. 
Most of my sermons, such as they were, were 
made on horseback. Before setting out, I 
stored my mind with texts, consulted such helps 
as I had at hand, and elaborated the discourse 
as I went on my way. Crude enough it was, 
I am sure; and often far less satisfactory to 
the preacher than it seemed to be to his hearers. 
One advantage I certainly had ; not many were 
capable of criticising either the composition or the 
theology, and the preacher was generally supposed 
to know more than any one else, the schoolmaster 
excepted. 

One man, however — whose name, for the sake of 
his grandchildren, I will not write — often undertook 
to instruct me. He questioned my exegesis of a 
certain passage from St. Paul ; and when I told him 
the views I had given were those of Dr. Adam 
Clarke, he replied, that " Dr. Clarke was a deep- 
minded man, and had plenty of book-larnin', but 
was a very poor scriptorian, and Richard Watson 
was tantamount to him in many specialities." 
Who could question such a man's right to criticise ? 
Silent I sat and heard. He said he had one fault 



MEXICO CIRCUIT. 



77 



to find with my colleague as a preacher — " he had 
no affectation." He told me he "cattelated to get 
a theomometer, that he might be able to certify 
the altitude of the weather." With such masterful 
use of " English undefined " he continued to en- 
lighten me till bed-time, then wanted to know 
" whether it would be practable to go and see my 
horse before retiring to our repositary for the 
night." Will my reader believe me when I say the 
critic was a Justice of the Peace ? More wonderful 
still — he was a licensed exhorter, and an aspirant 
for the ministry, which perhaps explains his differ- 
ence with Dr. Clarke. One of his public deliver- 
ances I had the good fortune to hear. His text 
was — " Behold the man;" and this, in his own 
exact words, was the plan of the performance : 
" First, I shall demonstrate that there is a man ; 
secondly, I shall exhort you to behold the man ; 
and thirdly, I shall endeavor to identify what are 
the character of those which refuseth to behold the 
man." I believe he never reached the ministry. 

That winter we had a great depth of snow. 
Spring opened with a sudden thaw. The roads 
were almost impassable. In some places the melt- 
ing snow was four or five feet deep, and in others 
the mud seemed bottomless. On Saturday I lost 
my horse. Sunday, my first appointment was at 
home, the second twelve miles distant, and the 
third twelve miles still farther on. I preached and 
met the class in the morning ; then walked in a 
heavy rain to the next place, where I performed the 
same duties ; and afterward went on through the 



73 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



increasing storm to my evening appointment, stop- 
ping to pray with a dying man by the way. Three 
miles short of my destination, I came to a swollen 
stream. Usually it was easily fordable, but now 
deep and rapid, and the broken ice was running. I 
ventured upon it, leaping from fragment to fragment, 
till I reached the middle, when down I went in the 
cold water to my arms. With no small difficulty, 
I struggled through, and hastened forward. Having 
to cross the same stream again a mile farther on, I 
did not hesitate to plunge in, since I could not be 
wetter than I was. Arriving, I found the large 
school-house pretty well filled, and they had been 
waiting for me more than half an hour. If I recol- 
lect correctly my own sensations, I did not enjoy 
preaching that evening quite so much as usual. 
The good family that entertained me sent me at 
once to bed, brought me a couple of fried cakes 
and a cup of hot tea, and hung my garments be- 
fore the fire that they might be ready for me in the 
morning. In the morning, however, I did not need 
them, nor for many mornings more. I was in a 
wild delirium, and preached vociferously all day. 
My friends thought my work was finished ; but I 
forded this stream also ; and, after some six weeks, 
with a grateful heart for God's restoring goodness, 
resumed my travels on a new horse. 



XXI. ROSE AND CLYDE. 



The following year, with Burroughs Holmes, I 
went to Rose circuit. In some respects, this was 



ROSE AND CLYDE. 79 

better than Mexico — better roads, better culture, 
and a little more money. But who expects a Rose 
without a Thorn ? At Wolcott, a niggardly old man 
of this name proved " a thorn in the flesh, a mes- 
senger of Satan to buffet us." He gave us both 
much trouble, and seriously obstructed our work. 
The application of discipline was deemed necessary 
for his spiritual health. On his trial, he made a 
memorable speech, closing with the classical quota- 
tion, " Vox populi vox Dei ; " which, for the benefit 
of the unlearned, he translated — " Let justice be 
done though the heavens fall ! " Justice was done 
and the heavens did not fall. The result was peace 
among the people, with a little cash for my colleague 
and much amusement for me. So, out of the lion 
that roared against us, each got his handful of 
honey. 

About the first of March, a vacancy occurred in 
Clyde ; and, at the desire of the quarterly conference, 
I went to supply their lack of service. This was an- 
other rise on the Jacob's ladder of my destiny ; and, 
as the station belonged to the Genesee Conference, 
it enlarged my circle of acquaintance. Here I pro- 
nounced my first Fourth of July oration. I had 
done my best in its preparation, and thoroughly 
committed it to memory ; so that, without notes, I 
spoke freely and fluently. The large audience ap- 
plauded to the echo ; and a member of Congress at 
the public dinner offered this toast, which was re- 
ceived with hearty cheers : " The Orator of the Day 
— May the ripened fruit of his intellect justify the 
promise of the opening blossom." This was as grat- 



8o 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ifying as unexpected, and on my knees I thanked 
God for so favorable an estimate of what I consid- 
ered a very poor performance, and solemnly prom- 
ised that whatever strength or influence was 
thus brought to me should be devoted to his 
glory. 

The oration was published, and reviews and ex- 
tracts appeared in the papers. To this I attribute 
an invitation to Rochester, where I preached many 
sermons ; making the acquaintance of Dr. Samuel 
Lucky, John Copeland, Manly Tooker, Seth Matti- 
son, Israel Chamberlain, and many others of the 
Genesee Conference. Allen Steele, a brilliant 
young man, then stationed in the city, from that 
time became my most intimate friend, and continued 
so to the day of his death. He achieved consider- 
able celebrity as a preacher, having an abundance of 
vigorous thought, a happy faculty of illustration, a 
magnificent baritone voice, and a most impressive 
manner. I was called also to deliver a literary ad- 
dress at Lima Seminary, to preach a dedication ser- 
mon at Elmira, and on other special occasions I had 
similar work to do in Lyons, Geneva, Canandaigua, 
Ithaca and Auburn. About the same time I began 
writing for a religious newspaper — a work which I 
continued many years. All this was helpful and 
stimulating ; and the more I had to do, the more I 
enjoyed the doing. Trusting in God, I was habitu- 
ally happy ; and every success brought me to my 
Savior's feet. When conscious as often I was, of 
an utter failure, I said, " It is mine own infirmity, 
but I will remember the years of the right hand 



SKANEATELES AND CORTLAND. 



81 



of the Most High;" and so girded up my loins 
for a better effort. 

XXII. SKANEATELES AND CORTLAND. 

In my classical course I had now reached the 
goal toward which I had agonized so long. I mar- 
ried the first girl I ever loved, and joined the Oneida 
Conference. A year at Skaneateles furnished me 
abundance of hard work, with a very meagre support. 
In the midst of a wealthy community, we often had 
nothing in the house to eat. One day two ministers 
dined with us on potatoes and barley bread made 
from sifted horse provender. This was all we were 
able to set before them. My entire claim was only 
three hundred dollars, and my receipts amounted to 
less than two hundred. The Methodists preached 
a free Gospel, and their hearers liked the doctrine. 
While here, I went occasionally to Auburn ; and a 
Professor in the Theological Seminary, who heard 
me at one of those visits, wrote me a letter of four 
foolscap 'pages, full of kindly critical suggestions 
that did me a world of good. 

The following year at Cortland was easier work 
and ampler pay. My friend Luke Hitchcock was in 
Ithaca. He desired me to preach a missionary ser- 
mon to his people on a certain Sunday evening. 
On Friday I finished my preparation. Saturday a 
Brother Coleman called and dined with us. He 
was agent for the Oneida Conference Seminary, on 
his way to Ithaca, to present the claims of that 
institution Sunday morning. Aware of my engage- 



82 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ment there for the evening, and informed that I 
had written the sermon, he asked me to read it to 
him. I took him to my study, and read while he 
shaved with my razor. This done, he set forth for 
Ithaca, saying — " I will announce you for the even- 
ing." Sunday evening I appeared there, and ful- 
filled my promise. After the service, Hitchcock 
and Robie joined me at the door, and I walked be- 
tween them. " There is a mystery to be solved," 
said H. ; you and Coleman have preached the same 
sermon." " Yes," exclaimed R. ; ''word for word, 
I believe, from beginning to end." " Of course," 
added H., "this is not accident; is the sermon 
yours or his? or have you both taken it from 
some book?" "Cross, I believe it is yours," 
rejoined R. ; " it sounds like you, and not like 
Coleman ; and yet I can't imagine how he got 
ahead of you." Full of indignation, the perplexity 
of my friends amused me. But now it was time to 
say: "Coleman dined with me yesterday, and I 
read him my sermon." " At his old tricks again ! " 
laughed R. ; " Coleman remembers all he reads or 
hears, but he is too lazy to make a good sermon." 
"True!" responded H. ; " but ought a man with 
such a memory to be utterly without a conscience, 
or ought his unrivalled faculty to shield him from 
the just retribution of such villany?" 

My two friends were satisfied ; how to set the 
people right was another question. Further delib- 
eration led to the conclusion that the printing of 
the sermon was the best measure to be taken. 
Printed it was. Two years later I heard it preached 



THE STENOGRAPHER. 



33 



at a missionary meeting by one who did not know 
that the author was in the house ; and I remem- 
bered how Dr. Nott went from Schenectady to 
Albany to hear the famous Hooper Cummins, and 
found his own sermon " vastly better when deliv- 
ered by an accomplished orator." 

This year passed away my dear brother Henry. 
I was permitted to be with him in his last hours. 
He sank gradually into apparent unconsciousness, 
till he seemed to cease breathing, and we all thought 
he was gone. But suddenly he opened his eyes 
with a startled look, and said : " O Joseph ! I have 
seen the city! too beautiful to tell! and such 
beautiful people ! and angels flying and singing ! 
and Jesus came, reached out a bloody hand, and 
said, ' I died for you ? ' I've just come back to tell 
you ; now, good bye ! " These were his last words. 
He closed his eyes, breathed three or four times, 
and was no more. 

XXIII. THE STENOGRAPHER. 

All mention of my stenographic studies and 
achievements I have hitherto omitted. Let me go 
back and gather up a few items. Their chronologi- 
cal relations are of little consequence, and in this 
section I may as well set down all I have to say 
upon the subject. 

As early as 1825, M. T. C. Gould was shorthand 
reporter in Congress ; and later, conductor of a 
monthly magazine called The Repertory, devoted to 
the interest of his art. His system was taken from 



8 4 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Taylor, who had derived it from an older master, 
and he from somebody's great-grandfather who has 
left no record of his own inheritance. No doubt 
each successive Elisha remodeled and renovated the 
fallen mantle of his Elijah. Could we trace the 
stenographic succession up to its origin, perchance 
we might find the first link of the chain in the hand 
of Ezra, if not of Enoch or of Adam. Tully cer- 
tainly wrote shorthand ; so, probably, did Demos- 
thenes. " Moses was learned in all the wisdom of 
Egypt ; " and if shorthand was not included in the 
curriculum, the Pentateuch would have contained 
twenty " mistakes " where its astute modern critic 
has imagined one. 

An autobiography is no place for speculation ; let 
us come to facts. When I was a student in Syra- 
cuse, I picked up a newspaper containing an 
advertisement of Gould's Stenography. It was a 
startling revelation. Of such an art, in all my 
dreaming, I had never dreamed. A quarter would 
buy the book ; it was only fifty pages ; and I could 
learn without a master. And there the little won- 
der lay, at Redfield's book-store, two streets away. 
A voice within me said : " Why tarriest thou ? 
Arise, and be a stenographer ! " In ten minutes, I 
had a prize in my pocket worth a mountain of 
diamonds. Within a month, I was master of its 
mystery, and could write five times as fast as I had 
ever written. To read readily what I had written 
required much longer time ; this comes only from 
perfect familiarity with the art. Immediately j 
began taking down whatever I heard in public. 



THE STENOGRAPHER. 



85 



My first success was a marvel to myself, and a 
powerful stimulus to my ambition. For many 
years after, I seldom heard a sermon, lecture, 
oration, or address of any sort, without writing it as 
it fell from the lips of the speaker. 

My new art had a wonderful effect in quickening 
my mental faculties. The severest intellectual pro- 
cesses became easy and natural. Half an hour 
sometimes seemed sufficient for what had formerly 
cost rne a whole day of exhausting effort. Short- 
hand was my Pegasus and my Helicon. I wrote 
shorthand notes of all my studies. In shorthand 
I summarized my philosophy and outlined my the- 
ology. In shorthand I made extracts from the 
books I read, and copied out the " Life of Summer- 
field," and a large portion of Raffles' beautiful " Bi- 
ography of Thomas Spencer." For a long time, my 
shorthand enthusiasm quite absorbed me. It was 
my meat and drink — my pillow and dreams — the 
element in which I lived, moved, and had my 
being. 

In those years, the great religious anniversaries 
were held in Gotham during the month of May. I 
was called thither for platform purposes — my first 
in that sort. Such an occasion was a rendezvous of 
the most illustrious pulpit men in the land. Of 
course, I had little acquaintance with any outside 
of Methodist circles. There was Wilbur Fisk, the 
luminous Christian philosopher ; and Stephen Olin, 
with his ponderous sentences — a lumber-wagon 
loaded with gold ; and William Capers, whose dis- 
course was as calm and beautiful as his counte- 



86 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



nance ; and George F. Pierce, moving the multitude 
with his blended wit and pathos, " as the trees of 
the wood are moved by the wind ; " and John N. 
Maffit, with his silvery intonations and teeming 
seraphic fancies ; and Charles F. Deems, fresh from 
Randolph Macon, bright with ambitious hopes, and 
all aglow with poetic ardor ; and William Winans, 
the Mississippi Demosthenes, with his logic all on 
fire ; and John P. Durbin, burying his saint in the 
sun, and covering him up with stars, for the res- 
urrection angel to find him ; and the grand old 
Boston sea-captain — Father Taylor, to report whom 
would have been to report Neptune lashing his 
steeds through the foam and spray of the tempest ; 
and the Ajax of the Alleghanies — Henry B. Bas- 
com, who began to walk where others ceased to 
soar, and hurled down upon his hearers avalanches 
of diamonds and rubies. 

This last, at least, must be reported. " Report 
Bascom ! " said an editor ; " as well report an earth- 
quake or a tornado ! He has never been reported. 
When Chaplain to Congress, Gould tried and 
failed." "Well," I replied, "I will try again, and 
you may give my failure to your readers." Laugh- 
ing heartily, he answered, " I will." The preacher's 
entrance, over the heads of the impenetrable crowd, 
on a plank reaching from a window to the pulpit, 
was a fit prelude to such a sermon. It was the 
remarkable one entitled " The Kingdom of Christ " 
in his first volume — a masterpiece of eloquence, 
and a flood of intellectual light. Every sentence 
seemed a new revelation. Metaphors came like 



THE STENOGRAPHER. 



87 



swarms of bees, and similes like knights in tour- 
nament. His peculiar percussive enunciation, 
the occasional thunder-crash of his emphasis, the 
graceful energy of incessant action, and the finest 
personnel I ever saw in the pulpit, captivated the 
vast concourse, and well-nigh unnerved the stenog- 
rapher. I summoned all my energies to the effort, 
and for an hour and thirty minutes followed the 
impetuous charger. When the " earthquake " was 
over and the " tornado " past, I went to my lodg- 
ings, copied out the discourse while others slept, 
and the next morning presented it to the preacher. 
He read and returned it with this endorsement : 
" Correct — not a word to alter — did not suppose 
there was a man on earth could do it !" The next 
day the sermon was in print. 

The year rolled round, and I was again in 
Gotham. Francis Hall received me as his guest. 
He was editor in chief of the Commercial Adver- 
tiser. In his office I found a sub-editor, who had 
learned shorthand from Gould, and been associated 
with him as reporter in Washington. He was glad 
to see me — had read my report of Bascom — re- 
garded it as a wonderful feat — would like personally 
to test my power. Picking up a book, he said : " I 
will read ; will you write ? " He read four pages 
rapidly; then, pausing, said: u Please read what 
you have written." I read my notes as rapidly as 
he had read the original. When I finished, he 
exclaimed : " Brother, you astonish me ! I have 
been called the best stenographer in America ; but 
you write more rapidly, and far more beautifully. 



88 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Nobody can read my notes ; but yours are as plain 
as print. Why don't you go to Washington? 
Your art would be your fortune. You could 
command any salary you please." " I have a com- 
mission from Christ," was my reply, " and no money 
could tempt me from my divine vocation." With 
a warm grasp of the hand, he responded: "I 
heartily commend your decision ; and may your 
success in the ministry richly reward your fidel- 
ity !" 

The following year, I think it was, I attended a 
conference at Rome, N. Y. Bishop Soule presided. 
He was a man of majestic presence. More than 
once in London, as he was rather fond of relating, 
he had been mistaken for the Duke of Wellington. 
In speech he was deliberate, logical, emphatic, and 
very impressive. At the close of the session, just 
before reading out the appointments for the year, 
he made an address full of pathos and power. I 
sat by the side of John E. Robie, editor of the 
Northern Christian Advocate. "Cross," he whis- 
pered, " I wish you had undertaken to report that 
speech ! I would give fifty dollars for it ! " "You 
shall have it for nothing," I replied, and instantly be- 
gan to write. The bishop had been speaking about 
fifteen minutes. I had to write what he had said, 
and listen to what he was saying. His clearness 
and moderation were much in my favor. When he 
closed, at the end of half an hour, I had the whole 
in shorthand. I wrote it out afterward, and Robie 
published it, with no mean commendation of the 
reporter. 



THE STENOGRAPHER. 



8 9 



That speech was spoken of by many as one of 
the most remarkable ever uttered by that very 
remarkable man. Never shall I forget the manner 
in which he pronounced these words : " Brethren, 
I have slept in city palaces, on beds of down, 
enclosed with damask curtains ; and I have gone 
thence, and lain down with the Indian on his bear- 
skin at the foot of an oak, with the stars looking 
down upon us through the foliage ; and I declare to 
you that, as far as my peace and contentment are 
concerned, I would not turn this hand over for the 
choice!" Then, stretching himself to his full 
height, with a tone and an emphasis worthy of an 
Isaiah or an Ezekiel, he added : " The soul of man is 
an empire in itself, and God's angels as often visit 
the wigwam as the mansion ! " 

Business called me to Cazenovia. A well-known 
phrenologist was there, creating no small commo- 
tion. Two of his lectures I heard and reported. 
They were sprightly and popular. A third was 
announced on the " Theology of Phrenology." 
This was a novelty to the lecturer no less than his 
audience. He was going to magnify his office. 
There would be present three or four Doctors of 
Divinity, half a dozen learned professors, and a 
score, at least, of pulpit embryos, all more or less 
critically inclined. I was about to depart ; but 
wouldn't I remain and report the performance? 
Reluctantly I consented, intending to drive fourteen 
miles by moonlight after the lecture. No venial 
sin did I ever repent more sincerely. The effort 
was pitifully weak and worthless. The cobbler had 



go 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



gone beyond his last. In less than ten minutes, it 
was painfully apparent that he was not equal to his 
undertaking. The evident uneasiness of his audi- 
ence increased his confusion, and he went flounder- 
ing on in a chaos of his own creation. I followed 
him through the first hour, then lost all interest in 
his incoherent utterances, and gave up the attempt 
to record them. Near the end of the second hour, 
I took my departure, leaving the following lines on 
the table. Intended for the eye of the orator, they 
fell into the hands of the editor, and I saw them 
afterward in the newspaper. 

" O Lecturer ! 'tis wondrous wise ! 

Theology ! Phrenology ! 
For putting out the people's eyes, 

You owe them an apology ; 
And meekly we would all advise, 

Tis time to sing doxology ; 
And when again you seek to rise, 
And sweep the cobwebs from the skies, 

Pray, let alone Theology ! " 

For " filthy lucre " I always had a sovereign dis- 
dain ; so, I think, had filthy lucre for me. I never 
reported for money, and money never sought the 
reporter's pocket. If ever by mistake it got there, 
it seemed to have a sort of uneasy feeling, like a 
homesick lass at boarding-school. We never liked 
each other — Mammon and I. I reported preachers 
because I loved preaching, and annual conferences 
because I belonged to such a fraternity. Soul and 
body, I was absorbed in my sacred calling. I fol- 



THE STENOGRAPHER. 



91 



lowed the first pulpit orators, and wrote after them 
con amore. To take down the public utterances of a 
great man, I would go a long distance and spend 
my last dollar. At conferences my work was often 
in demand, and nothing gave me greater delight 
than responding to the calls of my brethren, except 
their cordial commendations of my endeavors. 

Two General Conferences — one in St. Louis, the 
other in Nashville — taxed my powers to the ut- 
most. Alone, I wrote the entire proceedings, with 
many of the more important speeches. At night I 
copied out my notes, and the next morning revised 
the proofs. Each conference lasted four weeks ; 
and at the close was bound up a large volume, 
every word of which I had twice written. On one 
of these occasions, the constant nervous tension and 
want of sufficient sleep made a straw too much for 
the camel. I went home ill, and lay some weeks in 
bed. To-day such a body would want half a dozen 
reporters ; then they were not to be found, and 
Crusoe had no Friday. The cordial vote of thanks 
was my only reward, and the loving words of men 
whom I honored next to God sank into my soul 
like the music of cathedral chimes. 

In those long-ago days, wherever stationed, I 
organized a stenographic class. This helped to eke 
out a frugal living in the least pecunious of all pro- 
fessions. For twelve lessons I charged five dollars. 
In those twelve lessons I engaged to give a thorough 
knowledge of trje system, with a satisfactory speed 
in writing. Thus I lied only to the lazy, and my 
failure was their fault. 



9 2 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



For the benefit of all stenographic neophytes, it 
ought to be stated, that successful reporting is less 
a manual than a mental achievement. If one fails, 
it is not from the inability of the hand to move fast 
enough, so much as from the inability of the mind 
to grasp and hold the thought while the hand per- 
forms its duty. Where mental capacity, liberal 
culture, professional enthusiasm, and perfect self- 
possession, cooperate to make the stenographer, 
digital dexterity will not long be wanting to com- 
plete their work. All these are essential ; and their 
combination ensures success. 

To read readily one's own writing requires longer 
practice, being the result of much familiarity with 
the art. With due diligence, however, come at 
length it will, as it came to me. In one year, I 
think, from the beginning, I could read my short- 
hand as well as a printed book ; and this power I 
still retain, in spite of all the changes I have made 
in my manner of writing during these sixty years. 

Not the least of its benefits I reckon the aid my 
art has afforded me in the work of composition. 
Besides what I have written for magazines and 
newspapers, I have published eighteen volumes, 
making about five thousand and six hundred pages ; 
all composed in shorthand, and subsequently trans- 
cribed for the compositor. Under all the disabling 
environments of my busy life, I could never have 
accomplished so much extra literary labor without 
this grand facility. Not one line have I ever given 
to the press, which was not first written in short- 
hand. Much of my life I have kept a shorthand 



THE STENOGRAPHER. 



93 



diary and a shorthand book of commonplaces, upon 
which I have drawn for material as I had need. In 
three transatlantic trips, I journalized in this way 
all that I cared to record ; and my notes afterward 
became A Year in Europe and Edens of Italy. 
I wrote shorthand sermons, lectures, addresses, 
meditations ; and these became HEADLANDS OF 
Faith, Pisgah-Views, Hebrew Missionary, 
Knight Banneret, Evangel, Pauline Charity, 
Coals from the Altar, Old Wine and New, 
Alone with God, Salt, etc. 

During the terrible conflict between the North 
and the South — like the collision of adverse planets, 
regenerating both — I wrote, from shorthand notes, 
three volumes entitled Camp AND FIELD, embody- 
ing my observations and experiences as chaplain in 
the Confederate Army. Printed, but unbound, 
they lay in the publishing house at Columbia, when 
General Sherman came and took charge of the place, 
and the author never saw their ashes. Let us not 
weep for them. 

From the beginning, I labored to improve upon 
Gould ; and now there is scarcely a sign or char- 
acter in the system that has not been modified by 
new adaptations ; and Gould himself, returning 
from his sixty years sojourn in other spheres, would 
have to become my pupil before he could read one 
sentence of my shorthand. When Pittman ap- 
peared, I learned his phonography, and for six 
months wrote nothing else ; then returned to my 
former method, as more rapidly written and more 
easily read. My nephew, Jesse G. Cross, M. A., 



94 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



invented a new system, based altogether on other 
principles, and called it ECLECTIC SHORTHAND. 
This also I have learned and practised. Still, for 
my own use, as being a part of myself, swifter to 
write and surer to read than any other reporting 
medium since Baruch wrote from the mouth of 
Jeremiah, I adhere to Joseph Cross' COMPOSITE 
Stenography. 

When I entered upon my career as a shorthand 
writer, I have good reason for believing, there were 
not three others between Cape Cod and the Rio 
Grande. Now there are forty-five thousand. Sixty 
years, and what a change ! Shorthand writers 
everywhere — everywhere more needed — swarming 
like bees in summer time — wizards of the fountain 
pen, and witches of the cedar pencil, weaving their 
weird spells over earth and ocean — no deliberative 
body, no legislative assembly, no court of justice, 
no branch of business, no board or committee, no 
art or profession, no charity or religion, no comedy 
or tragedy, no eloquence or patriotism, no race- 
course or prize-ring, nothing good or bad between 
the zenith and the nadir, without its shorthand 
writer or host of shorthand writers 1 What next? 
I am no prophet, nor son of a prophet. The field 
of thought is immeasurable, the scope of genius is 
illimitable, the domain of truth is greater than 
space and time, and man at his best development 
is second only to God. For closing word, I mend 
or mar a fossil : 



ITHACA. 



95 



" Could we with ink the ocean fill, 

And were the heavens of parchment made, 
And every stick on earth a quill, 

And every man a scribe by trade ; 
To write the wonders of the soul, 

Would drain the ocean dry ; 
Nor would the scroll contain the whole, 

Though stretched from sky to sky ! " 

XXIV. ITHACA. 

I HAD now been two years in the conference. 
My chief studies during the time had been Eccle- 
siastical History, Ecclesiastical Polity, and Syste- 
matic Divinity. In the last, Watson's Theological 
Institutes was our main text-book. That I might 
master its contents the more thoroughly, and at the 
same time furnish my people sound instruction in 
the faith, I took up its several topics seriatim, and 
every week elaborated a sermon on one of them till 
I had gone through the volume. Both at Skaneat- 
eles and at Cortland, this was my regular Sunday 
morning course, from which I deviated only on rare 
occasions. My evening discourses were more mis- 
cellaneous, and generally unwritten. 

I was now appointed to Ithaca. Except Cazeno- 
via, this was deemed the most desirable station in 
the conference. Methodism here had wealth, cul- 
ture and popularity. Amasa Dana, a member of 
Congress and a most estimable man, was superin- 
tendent of our Sunday-school, and the best I have 
ever known. He became my warm friend and 
excellent counsellor. Dr. Stevens also was wise, 



9 6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



and good, and noble. Chauncy Heath led a choir 
that filled the gallery, and poured forth song as the 
sound of many waters. Among the Class Leaders 
were about half a dozen men of much more than 
ordinary zeal and piety ; and we had as many 
" mothers in Israel," ready unto every good work. 
Sunday evening the young people filled the large 
church to overflowing. Here was something to 
work for — sufficient to call forth the best of which 
I was capable. Feeling the need of more, grace and 
spiritual strength, I resorted again to my manuscript 
copy of Summerfield's life, and devoted a whole 
week to strict fasting and constant prayer. God 
was greatly merciful, and my poor heart was much 
softened and comforted. And here let me say, 
once for all, that I have found at least one of these 
personal revivals a year — and 

" Two are better far than one," 

absolutely necessary to the maintenance of Chris- 
tian life and the success of my ministry. In my 
latter years, the Lenten season has never failed to 
help me in both respects, and I could heartily wish 
that my Methodist brethren had not dropped its 
observance. 

In Ithaca, my Presiding Elder was my nearest 
neighbor — Joseph Castle— a scholarly man, and the 
ablest preacher in the conference. He was a warm- 
hearted Englishman, and we were on the best of 
terms. One day he came into my study with an 
armful of books. I was reading the Poems of 



ITHACA. 



97 



Ossian. " Come, now ! " he said ; " I've brought 
you some better food than that. It is time you 
were preferring pork to pap. There's poetry enough 
in you already — and genius — too much genius. 
' Lady of. The Lake' and 'Loves of the Angels' 
will do you no good. You must straighten up, or 
you'll go lop-sided through life." I explained to 
him that I read the poets only for rest and change. 
"Yes," said he, "but you don't need them — better 
off without them. This is the kind of pabulum you 
want ! " He had brought me Andrew Fuller's 
works. I found them solid, but dry — logical, but 
cold. Robert Hall gave me more thought in a bet- 
ter form ; and John Foster furnished me a " feast 
of fat things full of marrow, with wine on the leas 
well refined." With much profit I read South, 
Barrow, Horseley, Jeremy Taylor. Chalmers in- 
spired me ; Melville captivated me ; Richard Wat- 
son lifted me to a higher plane of thought. Over 
Wesley's Sermons I never could get up much 
enthusiasm, and Adam Clarke was a mere commen- 
tator in the pulpit , but Joseph Benson stirred me 
with every utterance, and John Fletcher drew my 
heart with cords of love. To these I devoted much 
time, often discussing their qualities with my pre- 
siding elder, and deriving no small benefit from his 
criticisms and suggestions. He also gave me my 
first lessons in Hebrew, and with his assistance I 
pursued the study throughout the year. 

There was published in Ithaca a satirical little 
sheet called The Castigator — without much dis- 
crimination holding up to public ridicule whatever af- 



9 8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



forded matter for mirth or criticism. Short-sighted, 
I wore gold spectacles ; and in warm weather, a 
long thin coat resembling a cassock. In these, on 
the Fourth of July, I delivered the anniversary ora- 
tion ; and on Thanksgiving Day, preached to the 
associated congregation. To one who " after the 
most straightest sect of our religion lived a " Meth- 
odist, they were a sore grief , and, pleading the rule 
of Mr. Wesley against " the putting on of gold and 
costly apparel," he thought it needful to " labor 
with" me before the ''official board." He did not 
intend that the matter should get abroad. The 
oration and sermon aforesaid were printed ; and, in 
noticing them, the Castigator said : " This is the 
soldier of the Cross whose golden eyedeas and 
silken images lately disturbed the conscience of the 
Tadpole Eelpot," etc. Lest the " eyedeas " and 
" images " should rise up in judgment against the 
conscience of the aggrieved brother, I modified the 
former and laid aside the latter. In return, he 
bought my horse for a hundred and fifty dollars, 
and conscientiously forgot to pay the fifty. The 
Castigator heard of the fact, and faithfully reported 
it to the public. 

But the Tadpole Eelpot contained more fun for 
the Castigator. My predecessor there was my 
friend Luke Hitchcock. At one of his evening ser- 
vices, a company of young people had misbehaved, 
to the serious disturbance of public worship. 
Hitchcock rebuked them as they deserved. The 
next day one of the young men called on him, and 
demanded an apology for the insult to his sister ; 



ITHACA. 



99 



and, getting none, proceeded to twist the Reverend 
Insulter's nose. Meekly as a martyr he sat with 
folded arms, and bore the rude indignity. A suit 
for the assault was instituted, and now the case 
came up for trial. Both parties were present, and 
witty lawyers made the matter musical ; and the 
young man's conscience, which he carried in his 
pocket, suffered condign remorse for his audacity. 
The Castigator took up the case, and made Ithaca a 
hot place for the rowdy. 

While resident here, I became acquainted with 
some agreeable friends of the Hon. Amasa Dana, 
who were sojourning at his house On their invita- 
tion, I afterward visited them in Owego. There I 
saw a man driving through town in a one-horse 
wagon, with a sulky hitched on behind, in which 
rode a woman with a parasol and a poodle. These 
persons were N. P. Willis and his wife, and this 
was the poetry of their eccentricity. The bard had 
purchased a beautiful rural seat a mile or two out, 
and in honor of his spouse called it Glen Mary. 
Here he wrote " Letters from Under a Bridge," and 
covered with verses the gates, fences, and trunks of 
trees. It was a poet's paradise, and looked as if 
rhymes had rained upon it from heaven. A New 
England dairyman bought the adjoining farm, and 
in compliment to his buxom housekeeper embla- 
zoned his gate and barn front with the name Glen 
Betsy. Willis went, and stood not upon the order 
of his going. 

During the last six months of my residence in 
Ithaca, a change took place in my views and feel- 



IOO 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ings, which came near severing my connection with 
Methodism. I kept nothing concerning it from the 
knowledge of my Presiding Elder, but frankly 
opened to him my whole heart. He was much in 
sympathy with me, and treated the matter with the 
utmost magnanimity, but counselled further investi- 
gation and prudence in my proceeding. Nothing 
came of it but grief and mortification for many 
years ; and, not caring to break the continuity of 
my story as a Methodist preacher, I reserve the 
fuller consideration of the subject for a later stage 
of this narrative. 

One morning a young man — Dayton F. Reed — 
called upon me, and asked permission to preach in 
our church. He showed his testimonials, and sat- 
isfied me that he was not another Dare. " Oh, 
yes," said I, " you may preach, but how are we to 
get the people together?" "Leave that to me," he 
replied ; " I'll bring them there, if you don't object 
to my method." Half an hour later, I was morti- 
fied at seeing him in the street, blowing a horn and 
ringing a bell, and now and then pausing to pro- 
claim his appointment for the evening in the Meth- 
odist church. Coining to a corner, he mounted a 
box, and for ten minutes addressed the crowd that 
followed him. Thus he spent a large part of the 
day ; and before he ceased, he had made fifteen 
short speeches to large audiences. At the ap- 
pointed hour r the church was packed to its utmost 
capacity; and such a sermon as he gave us, both for 
intellectual power and for moral impression, I have 
heard but few times in my life. 



BINGHAMPTON. 



IOI 



XXV. BINGHAMTON. 

THIS was my next field of labor, beautifully situ- 
ated on the Susquehanna at the mouth of the 
Chenango. A pair of Stockings were there — Solon 
and Selah — the former a local preacher, the latter a 
member of the conference — both excellent men, 
who gave me much aid and comfort in my work. 
It was soon found necessary to discipline a dis- 
orderly member of the Church, whose manner of 
life had caused much scandal. This was a sore 
grief to me, but I did not shrink from duty. The 
trial lasted a long time, party feeling ran high, and 
much ill will was awakened. After it was over, I 
fell sick of a nervous fever. As soon as I was able 
to travel, I took a trip to New York, and rapidly 
recuperated. It was my first visit to the grand 
commercial metropolis, and there was much to 
interest and entertain me. What gave me the 
greatest pleasure was Catherwood's Panorama of 
Jerusalem, from which I got a vivid idea of the 
Holy City and its surroundings. The topography 
of Olivet, especially, awakened strong emotions ; 
and while gazing upon the sacred mount, I con- 
ceived the plan of a sermon on the Ascension of our 
Lord. I subsequently elaborated the idea, putting 
all my soul and strength into the product. I 
preached it at the next session of the Oneida con- 
ference, and afterwards at the Genesee. The 
latter requested a copy for the press, and it was 
printed as a pamphlet. 



102 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



On reaching home, tidings met me of my moth- 
er's death. Dear mother! how much of gentleness 
and tenderness comes back with the memory of 
thee ! how much of loving care, and hard labor, and 
meek suffering, for all of us in our early and 
helpless years ! Alas that I ever grieved thee by 
the least unkindness or inconsideration ! Now 
that it is too late, had I an opportunity, with 
what tears would I crave thy pardon ! How often 
I wounded thee by ungrateful acts and careless ut- 
terances ! Now I can only pray God's forgiveness 
for my want of duty, and implore his eternal peace 
upon thy soul, and the reward of all thy patient 
love to an unworthy son. Some day I shall come 
and put roses on thy grave ; but why, while thou 
wert living, did I not make the earth bloom beneath 
thy feet, and the air breathe fragrance about thee ? 

" May our departed teach us, Lord, 
To love the living more ! " 

Dayton F. Reed, my strange friend, came to 
Binghamton, doing the same strange things as he 
had done in Ithaca, and preaching sermons of 
amazing power. Great interest was awakened, and 
many abandoned their wicked ways, and began to 
seek the Lord. He went to a camp-meeting near 
by, and took for his text the question : " What 
went ye out into the wilderness to see? a Reed 
shaken by the wind ? " The impression produced 
was most extraordinary. He returned with me 
to Binghamton, and remained many days, and did 
a vast amount of good. The childlike simplicity of 



BINGHAMPTON. 



I03 



his character, his great humility, constant devotion, 
and untiring love, gave a charm to every eccentricity 
and made his preaching irresistible. One day, 
catching the sound of his voice in the street, I drew 
near to hear. He was addressing an assemblage of 
three or four hundred. Closing, he said : " God 
has laid his finger upon me — I must go to Elmira 
— I want money enough to carry me there=" He 
came down and passed around his hat, and the 
people threw in their change. Before he had given 
half of them a chance to contribute, he looked into 
the hat, and exclaimed : " Enough ! Thank you ! " 
A gentleman seized the hat, and completed the 
collection ; and he was forced to accept a handsome 
offering, with a rousing vote of thanks from the 
crowd. He left a blessing behind him, and after 
many days it was manifest in the harvest of 
souls. 

Another preacher came from the South — very 
black — a run-away slave. His was the first negro 
sermon I ever heard, and I believe it was an aver- 
age specimen of what I have since heard from 
Africa. His text was: "Beloved, think it not 
strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try 
you," etc. He began thus : " Dis yar tex am mis- 
took by de white preachers in de Souf, an' maybe 
by some in de Norf. In de fussplace, dis yar word 
trial am mistook. He am comfounded ob de two 
Anglo-shaxom words try an' awl ; an' he mean de 
awl what de harness-makers use for try dar ledder 
wid, for see wher he am good stuff ; an dis yar fiery 
try-awl am dis yar awl het red hot, an' a burnin' 



104 DAYS OF MY YEARS. 

right tru de ledder ob de soul." If any graduate 
from your theological halls can invent a more ingen- 
ious exegesis, let him take the prize ! 

These were the days of anti-slavery enthusiasm, 
and African eloquence was at a premium. Gerritt 
Smith, and Alvan Stuart, and Quaker Fuller, ac- 
companied by their pet fugitives, and turning the 
world upside down, came hither also. ''American 
citizens of African descent " were thick as black- 
berries in Binghamton. It was not difficult to raise 
money enough to build them an African Methodist 
church. An African Methodist orator came from 
some end of the earth for its consecration. With a 
basin of water in one hand and a little brush in the 
other, he went to the four corners and sprinkled 
them plentifully, reciting the prophetic words — " I 
will sprinkle clean water upon you," etc. Then he 
returned, and sprinkled the pulpit and the railing 
around it, saying — " Dis place are holy unto de 
Lawd." 

In three or four days, "de white bruddah" was 
called to marry him in that house to a woman about 
twice his age. A fortnight later, the blushing 
bride came to me for " a lettah of divocement." 
"What!" said I, "you want to be divorced so 
soon ? " " Oh, no, sah ! " she answered ; " taint foh 
me, but de tuddah woman ; she say he her man, but 
I tinks he b'long to me, cause I marry 'em las'." 
" De tuddah woman " came from Rochester to claim 
her truant spouse ; and upon further inquiry, it 
turned out that he had yet another in Buffalo ! 
Had he been a Mormon, his bigamy had been re- 



JBINGHAMPTON. 



105 



ligion ; but the black gentile must go to Auburn as 
a criminal. 

Weddings among the darkies were popular, and 
generally " de white bruddah " was in demand for 
the performance. In the next case there was more 
amusement and less iniquity. After the solemn 
ceremony, an attendant observed, that it was just 
like a white wedding, only the officiating minister 
'had not kissed the bride. " La me ! " responded 
"the blackness of darkness " with the most innocent 
smile imaginable, " ruddah Mr. Johnson do dat ! " 
Her first boy was as black as Tartarus ; and when I 
came to Christen him, she called him Joseph Cross. 

"A white wedding" in my parlor was equally 
edifying to the mirthful faculty. On one of the cold- 
est nights in February a young twain came to be 
made one flesh. With four friends, they had driven 
twelve miles through a snow-storm. No fire in the 
room, I went to bring wood. Returning, I found 
the windows open, and the young man fanning his 
girl. It was very hot, he said, and he feared Maria 
would faint — wished I would proceed at once. 
Shivering, I said the magic word, and Maria did not 
faint. Ostentatiously, the happy youth plucked 
from his breast pocket and handed me a note, pre- 
sumed to contain the wedding fee. The next 
moment, with my blessing, they went forth into the 
wintry storm. As usual, I handed the note to my 
wife. She opened it, and found the serious part of 
the fun — a sheet of the purest white paper ! 

Another case was no marriage at all, and on that 
account still richer in the serio-comic element. I 



io6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



had driven six miles up into the mountains, and was 
well-nigh frozen. Half an hour before a large open 
fireplace brought me to my normal temperature. 
Neither bride nor groom was apparent, and there 
was no indication of festivities. The old man 
looked morose, and his wife was silent as Isis. I 
wondered and waited. At last the patriarch ap- 
proached, and thus disburdened his grief-stricken 
heart : " Dominie, I'm sorry you came. We can't 
help it. Man was made to mourn. This world is 
all a fleeting show. There's many a slip you know. 
S'pose it's all right. Maybe all work for good. 
That tarnation scoundrel has fluked. Haint seen 
nothing of him for four days. Didn't live here- 
abouts, you know. The poor gal's heart-broken. 
Wo'st of it is, my best hoss is gone. I've been 
talking with the old woman. She agrees that you 
oughtn't to come up here for nothing. So I think 
I must pay you half price." With the last word he 
offered me fifty cents. I replied that, having done 
no service, I could take no fee! My trip cost me a 
dollar and a half. 

One of our stewards came to me, and said : " I 
hear you want some flour; I have half a barrel, 
which I can send you." It was sent. My wife 
undertook to make some bread, but found it full of 
wriggling life, which reminded her of Luther at the 
Diet of Worms. I threw it out, and said nothing 
about it. Possibly the steward was quite ignorant 
of the worms, and his friendship was worth more 
than half a barrel of flour. 

In those days, donation parties for the pastor 



CAZENOVIA. 



I07 



were customary. I had been honored with one at 
Mexico, Clyde, Skaneateles, Cortland and Ithaca. 
The manner of them I did not like. Every guest 
brought what he could best spare — a piece of pork, 
a joint of veal, a sack of corn, a peck of apples, a 
bushel of potatoes, a remnant of calico for an apron, a 
whole dress pattern for one of the children, in rare 
cases a suit of broadcloth or a sum of money. " Do- 
nations," these were called. But there was a com- 
mittee to estimate the value of every article, and 
seldom was it set down at too low a figure. Some 
of the things presented were useful and necessary ; 
others the family could very well do without, and 
never would have purchased ; but the free gifts of 
friendship must not be declined. At the end of the 
year, however, if the salary was not fully paid — as 
always happened in my own case — the avails of the 
donation party were added to balance the books. 
So it now occurred in Binghamton, and three doU 
lars were charged for a half barrel of worms ! 

XXVI. CAZENOVIA. 

The next conference assigned me to Cazenovia. 
This was the headquarters of Methodism for the 
West, and the grand rallying point for its preachers. 
The seminary had a large number of students, and 
many of them were aiming at the ministry. Two 
of the faculty — Bostwick Hawley and George Willis 
Ninde — were my dearest friends, and purer fellow- 
ship than with them I have never known. They 
were alumni of the Wesleyan University, and the 



io8 



DAYS OF MV YEARS. 



latter was soon called to a tutorship in his alma 
mater. In Cazenovia he had begun his work as a 
preacher, and endeared himself to all who heard 
him by the beauty and brilliancy of his sermons. 
On the last evening before he left us, he called to 
bid me adieu, and I accompanied him half way 
back to the seminary. We were alone under the 
clear, cold stars. " Kneel down," said he ; and we 
knelt upon a snow-drift. Pointing to Sirius, he ex- 
claimed : " That is our witness ; as long as it shines, 
we will be friends ! " A moment we embraced each 
other ; then, rising, we parted, without another 
word. 

William H. T. Barnes came, delivering beautiful 
temperance lectures. Pollard and Wright followed 
— the Washingtonian, haranguing the crowds all 
day upon the street corners, and at night charming 
them in one of the largest churches. Their wit and 
pathos were irresistible, and such enthusiam on tem- 
perance had never before been witnessed in the 
West. It spread like fire on the prairie, and in a 
short time the whole country caught the flame. 
Poor Barnes was unfortunate — had trouble in Alex- 
andrian-went to the war in Mexico — the lancers 
came down upon him and his friends in a cemetery 
they were visiting, and not one of them escaped. 
His eloquence was Summerfieldian, and might have 
moved the world ; but he had no discretion, and his 
brilliant achievements became misfortunes to his 
friends. 

One morning a man calling himself Nazro called 
to see me. He wanted to form a class in the semi- 



CAZENOVIA. 



IO9 



nary, and teach the young men how to read the 
Holy Scriptures. The students had referred him to 
me. " Try me," he said ; "I will read any passage 
you desire." I gave him two ; one of them, a 
prophetic description of the Lord's coming with 
His chariots ; the other, King David's lament for 
Absalom. Of the former he said: "The prophet is 
Jehovah's herald ; he stands upon, a mountain, and 
sees him coming with all the cavalry and artillery 
of Heaven, and shouts to make the world hear 
him." Then he repeated the passage in a stento- 
rian voice, which outdoors might have been heard 
half a mile: " The Lord ! behold, he cometh with 
his chariots! " etc. " The other," said he, "is .more 
difficult; but give me a little time for preparation, 
and I can do it ; please keep quite still for three 
minutes." He bowed his head upon his hands, and 
my wife and I observed perfect silence. Then he 
raised his face, laughing through a shower of tears, 
and said, " I am ready now ! " And the manner in 
which he sobbed out the wail of the broken heart 
was so genuine that we both wept with him. 
Suffice it to say that Mr. Nazro formed a large 
class ; and though there was some ground for the 
suspicion that his brain was a little off its balance, 
he certainly succeeded better in teaching men to 
read the Holy Scriptures than any elocutionist I 
ever knew. 

We had a large accession to the church, and 
many of the converts had never been baptized. 
Some of the latter insisted on immersion, and for 
that purpose we repaired to the lake. It was 



no 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



spring time, and the water was cold, and remaining 
in it so long made me ill, and for two or three 
weeks I had a hard struggle for life. Through this 
long trial, friends were kind and attentive ; and 
when I returned to the pulpit, my first sermon was 
on the words of our Lord — " I was sick, and ye 
visited me." 

An emergency called me to Albany. The Old 
Foundry was by far the largest place of worship in 
the city. Daily for two weeks I preached there to 
immense audiences. The firemen desired me to 
give them an anniversary sermon. The vast build- 
ing was packed with people. Dr. Levings having 
conducted the devotional exercises, I arose in the 
pulpit, and shouted as loud as I could — " Fire ! 
Fire ! Fire ! " I proceeded to say that every house 
in the city was on fire — the interests endangered 
were infinite — numerous incendiaries were spreading 
the flames — our business was to rescue and save. 
The sermon was a series of pictures, as vivid and 
lifelike as I could make them. The conclusion, 
describing the final conflagration, carried my hearers 
to an unusual pitch of excitement. The next day, 
the papers were full of the discourse, accompanied 
with various criticisms, and subsequent events 
showed that my labor was not in vain. My heart 
was humbled, my faith was strengthened, and my 
zeal increased. 

For anniversary speeches I was again invited to 
New York. I had preached once, and made a mis- 
sionary address. Good old Brother Seaman was 
not pleased with my pet side-whiskers. They were 



CAZENOVIA. 



1 1 1 



very modest indeed, but no Methodist preacher in 
New York had ever disfigured his face in that way. 
His pastor — J. Leonard Gilder — said to him : " I 
think Brother Cross would cut them off, if he knew 
they were a grief to any of his brethren ; had you 
not better speak to him about it?" "I dare not," 
he replied — " would not for the world hurt his feel- 
ings; but if you can manage the matter judiciously, 
you may let him know that I will give him ten dol- 
lars a side for his whiskers." Brother G. reported 
the proposal to me, and we went at once to Brother 
S. He accompanied us to the barber ; and in ten 
minutes had my whiskers in his pocket, and I two 
gold eagles in mine, and all parties well pleased. 

The ensuing evening, at the Allen Street Church, 
I was to address the anniversary meeting of the 
Young Men's Missionary Society. Chas. F. Deems 
led off with a classic and admirable speech, and I 
followed. In concluding I said : " Mr. President, I 
have found an eagle's nest in your city, and here 
are two young eagles which I wish the treasurer of 
your society to take charge of. No doubt you 
would like to know how a poor Methodist preacher 
obtained so much money. It is the price of my 
whiskers, which I have parted with to-day as my 
best contribution to your society. If at any future 
time the dear brother who bought them, out of pure 
missionary zeal, should want another pair for the 
same purpose, he shall have them on demand at the 
same price." Dr. Bond, Editor of the Christian 
Advocate and Journal, arose and said: "I propose 
that the twenty dollars be applied to make the 



112 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



young brother a life member of the parent society, 
and would further suggest that he be requested to 
cultivate whiskers by the acre for the benefit of the 
missionary cause." The enthusiasm awakened 
precipitated the collection, which was one of unu- 
sual liberality. The next day I returned to Cazeno- 
via. 

My presiding elder — Elias Bowen — lived just 
across the street from the parsonage. He was a 
brave soldier, well equipped, but wore his girdle a 
little too tight. A committee from Madison came 
with a request that he should come and dedicate 
their new church. But they had an organ in it — he 
could not conscientiously dedicate it, but kindly 
referred them to me. " If Dr. Bowen will dedicate 
the church," I said, " I will dedicate the organ, and 
every pipe in it ! " This, therefore, was the arrange- 
ment. We drove to Madison together in a buggy. 
He solemnly gave the house to God, " with all its 
proper appurtenances." I followed, and presented 
to him, for his praise and glory, the organ ; and 
besought him so to sanctify both it and the organ- 
ist, that every tone proceeding from it should be in 
full harmony with the harps and trumpets of the 
Heavenly minstrelsy. 

We afterward travelled together to the annual 
conference at Owego. It was a two days' drive. 
As we started, he said : "You know I am to preach 
before the conference on the support of the minis- 
try ; to-day you must let me make my sermon; to- 
morrow we will visit." So I kept strict silence all 
day. About an hour before sunset he said : 



CAZENOVIA. 



113 



" Amen ! I have done ; now I will preach it to 
you." He went through the discourse, as if read- 
ing from a book ; and at the end added, "I shall 
preach it to the conference, word for word, as I 
have preached it to you." This led me to inquire 
into his method of preparation. He told me that 
he first mentally made an analysis of his subject, 
and then worked it out, division after division, and 
sentence after sentence, so that the whole lay in 
his mind like a printed book, and it cost him no 
effort to recall the very words he had chosen. 
This, he said, was his habitual method ; and he 
never wrote any part of a discourse, except for the 
press. The sermon was preached, and afterward 
printed, as near as I could judge, just as he had 
rehearsed it to me. 

The second day of our journey we had " the feast 
of reason and the flow of soul." He told me many 
incidents of his early ministry, one of which only I 
will here record : The Methodist preacher of that 
day studiously avoided all that was deemed fashion- 
able in dress. He wore a white neck-cloth without 
any visible shirt-collar. His coat was rounded in 
front, single-breasted, with a standing collar, and no 
superfluous buttons. Young Bowen ventured to 
break over the established custom. In a common 
dress-coat, with a black cravat and a starched collar, 
he went to a camp-meeting, and they put him up to 
preach. An old class-leader, close by, dropped his 
head upon his hands, and began to sigh and groan 
most wofully. As tne preacher went on, the lamen- 
tation grew louder, till at length it became articu. 



ii4 



DAYS OF MV YEARS. 



late: " Lord have mercy upon us ! What are we 
coming to ? Dandy for a preacher ! starched col- 
lar ! black cravat! double-breasted coat ! two rows 
of buttons ! white pocket-handkerchief ! Lord have 
mercy upon us ! " As Bowen warmed with his 
subject, the Jeremiad declined, and at length be- 
came inaudible. After a few more turns, the old 
class-leader raised his head, and looked the 
preacher full in the face with a smile. At the end 
of another paragraph, he began to weep, and say, 
in a suppressed tone, " Bless the Lord." At last, 
completely captured, he cried aloud : " Amen ! 
Go on, Dandy ! starched collar, black cravat, 
double-breasted coat, two rows of buttons, white 
pocket-handkerchief, and all ! Glory! Hallelu- 
jah ! " 

XXVII. AUBURN. 

I HAD reached the middle of my second year in 
Cazenovia. My relations there had been pleasant, 
and my work successful. But Auburn called ear- 
nestly for help. It was an important and improving 
station. For some reason, which I do not now 
remember, the minister there had left. They had 
a fine stone church, with a heavy debt upon it. It 
was thought I could raise the money to save it 
from the sheriff's hammer. Other provision, of a 
satisfactory sort, could be made for Cazenovia. 
The presiding elder of Cayuga District, David A. 
Shepard, came in person, and urged the case so 
strongly that the transfer was at once secured. 



AUBURN. 



115 



About the first of January, 1842, I removed to 
Auburn. After settling my family and officiating 
a few Sundays, I went forth to " raise the wind." 
My first effort was in Albany. " Haven't you got 
a tall steeple on your church?" asked a rich class- 
leader from whom I solicited a contribution. I 
confessed the fact. " I will not give you a cent! " 
he answered, with great emphasis on the cent ; " I 
would as soon see the devil sitting astride the ridge- 
pole ! " Others sympathized with him, and the 
steeple seemed likely to prove a serious obstacle to 
my success. But my old friend, Dr. Joseph Castle, 
was now at the Foundry, and he warmly seconded 
my efforts. I preached thirty-two sermons to his 
people, and they gave me twelve hundred dollars. 
On the hill where the Rev. Jas. Rawson was sta- 
tioned, I delivered twenty discourses and collected 
a thousand dollars. In New York I did better ; but 
this daily preaching was likely to prove too much 
for me, and I hastened home to rest. 

Three weeks restored my energies, and I went to 
Rochester. Finney and Burchard were there, and 
the city was ablaze with religious enthusiasm. I 
remained there nearly a month, preaching every 
day ; and got a glorious harvest of souls, but not 
much money. Thence I repaired to Lima, Elmira, 
Geneva, Canandaigua, and many other places in the 
Genesee Conference; preaching perpetually, with 
small pecuniary profit. I bought a fine black 
horse, and was riding him home. Crossing the 
Cayuga marsh, he took fright, and sprang from the 
narrow causeway into the mire. He struggled 



n6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



hard, but sank rapidly. I brought rails, and 
worked them under him ; and after some four hours 
of strenuous effort, managed to get him out. 

Henceforth, I restricted my labors within my 
own conference ; spending half my time at home, 
and half abroad. Thomas Castleton came and 
spent two weeks with me, preaching with great 
power. He afterward joined the Presbyterians and 
went South. At the commencement of the war 
in 1 86 1, he was at Houston, Texas. With his wife 
and a few bales of cotton he had raised, he 
embarked on a schooner at Galveston for New 
York, and was never heard of more. " Alas, my 
brother ! " 

My queer friend, Dayton F. Reed, came to me 
once more, and remained a week ; preaching four 
times in the church, and twenty times perhaps in 
the street. He had lost none of his power, was 
as logical as he was dramatic, and his sweet sim- 
plicity and humility gave great effect to his dis- 
courses. He would sometimes fall on his knees in 
the middle of a sermon, and plead earnestly for 
divine aid. It was impossible to remain unmoved 
under these pathetic appeals. I tried to persuade 
him to give up his roving life, and take regular 
work under the direction of the conference. 
"That is not my vocation," he answered; " by my 
present method, I can reach many who will never 
hear you ; and I must by all means try to save 
some of them." This was the last time I ever saw 
him. He went to New York, preached in the 
vilest slums of the city, and died there in i860. 



AUBURN. 



117 



Dr. Stephen Olin visited us on his way to Lima. 
We entertained him at our humble quarters, and I 
accompanied him to his destination. His address 
at the opening of the new hall in the Seminary was 
a masterly effort — one of the best he ever made. 
He was a man of stupendous intellect and mighty 
heart. American Methodism has never produced a 
greater mind, and his modesty and charity were 
greater than his unrivalled mental powers. His 
social character was exceedingly attractive ; and one 
could not be with him long, without feeling him- 
self elevated to a sphere of superior moral excel- 
lence. His sermons overwhelmed the mind ; his 
conversation irresistibly drew the heart. When I 
went to Charleston, S. C, in 1854, I preached 
two years in the pulpit where Olin, in the outset of 
his ministry, achieved that illustrious failure which 
was one of the most remarkable successes of his 
life. Favorably heralded, he was received at Bethel 
by a very large audience ; among whom were sev- 
eral clergymen, and many other distinguished per- 
sonages. He preached a long sermon, which he 
regarded as a disgracefully feeble performance. To 
avoid a crowd who were waiting to speak with him, 
he slipped out at a back door into the adjoining 
cemetery, groped about among the graves in the 
darkness, encountered a brick wall too high for 
him to scale, at last found a little gate leading into 
the enclosure of a residence, there was assailed by 
a fierce dog and held at bay till a gentleman came 
out and released him. The next day several per- 
sons sought him at his lodgings, to thank him for 



ii8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the spiritual help he had given them ; and he soon 
learned that many souls found pardon and peace 
under that sermon. Father Bird, who gave me the 
account, had a vivid recollection of the facts, and 
said that no sermon ever preached in Charleston 
had produced so great an impression upon the pub- 
lic. I shall never forget the amazing effect upon 
vast audiences of two discourses I heard from Dr. 
Olin. He had travelled in the East, presided over 
the Wesleyan University, and done twenty-seven 
years of successful work for Christ, when he died 
trusting joyfully in his redemption — 185 1 . 

A Baptist Millerite came to Auburn, preaching 
the end of the world. He was the first, I believe, 
that had appeared in the west. His discourses 
w r ere sober, argumentative, and very impressive. 
Many embraced his doctrine, understood but little 
of the theory, and went to the wildest practical 
extremes. A peat-bed, east of the town, took fire, 
and continued smoking and smouldering perhaps 
three months. This must be the beginning .of the 
end ; that fire would never go out till the world 
were burned up. 

Then came Bronson, teaching people to " speak 
with the dorsal and abdominal muscles." His 
musical accompaniment — Mr. Nash, a powerful 
basso — majestically illustrated his theory. We 
formed a large class for him, embracing nearly or 
quite all the ministers in town, with many theolog- 
ical students, lawyers, and others; and we all began 
trying to talk from our heels and toes, and our 
babel was almost equal to Nimrod's. Though 



AUBURN. 



II 9 



Bronson could make more faces than Nazro, he 
could not read the Bible half so well ; and I am 
not aware that his instruction ever benefitted me a 
particle. 

My youngest brother — Benjamin — having just 
returned from a whaling cruise of three years, came 
to see us, and remained a week. Then he visited 
our sister at Port Byron. While there, he went to 
bathe every day in a pond, of which the water was 
very cold. One evening his clothes were found 
lying upon the bank , and, upon examination, his 
body was discovered at the bottom. He had evi- 
dently been seized with cramp in the water. Poor 
brother ! so soon, so unexpected, and after so many 
perils at sea ! 

One night I had preached sixty miles from home, 
and gone to the parsonage to remain till morning. 
After ten o'clock I retired to my room. Kneeling 
in prayer, I felt my heart drawn out in an unusual 
manner on behalf of my beloved ones at Auburn. 
At the same time there was a strong impression — 
vague and mysterious — of the necessity of my im- 
mediate return. I tried to resist it, but could not 
shake it off. I was partly undressed, and the 
family were all in bed. Unable to overcome the 
strange feeling, I reclothed myself, went down 
stairs, woke up my friend, and told him I must go 
home. He wondered much, but I made no expla- 
nation. He accompanied me to the stable, and in 
ten minutes I was on my way. All night I drove, 
and reached Auburn at ten o'clock the next morn- 
ing — just in time to take my little Summerfield into 



120 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



my arms to die. He was two years old. The 
shaft that slew him rankled in my heart ; but the 
nail-pierced hand touched the wound, and wiped 
away my tears. 

Next came a letter from my dearest friend — 
George W. Ninde. He had returned from Middle- 
town to Lyons, to spend his last days with his 
brother and sisters. He begged me to come and 
help him die. I went and sat with him a fortnight 
at the gate of paradise ; and then laid his mortal 
part beneath the sod on a beautiful hillside, with a 
faith and a joy which turned the valley of the 
shadow of death into the dayspring of immortality. 
Sweetly, in his. last hour, he had talked of the star 
that had witnessed our covenant of eternal friend- 
ship, and said: " If our Heavenly Father will per- 
mit, I will come back to you, and remain with you 
till you come to be with me ! " " Put flowers in 
my coffin ! " he added ; " cover me up with flowers ! 
let me sleep amidst the flowers — 

" ' Emblems of our own great resurrection, 
Emblems of the bright and better land I' " 

We obeyed his last behest ; and George Willis 
Ninde — one of the fairest flowers that ever bloomed 
on earth — sleeps amidst the flowers ! 

By his pillow I had my last personal fellowship 
with his elder brother — my earlier friend at Pulaski 
— William Ward Ninde. He had come from Rome 
to take leave of the departing George. Two years 
later, he too lay down to die. I have been told 
that, for a whole day, apparently in perfect con- 



GENESEE CONFERENCE. 



121 



sciousness, he remained utterly silent ; and when 
they asked him why, he answered—" Do you not 
know that my soul is ripening for glory?" O my 
God, my Savior! of all the blessings thou hast ever 
given me, except thy own love, there is none 
greater than the love of hearts like these ! 

XXVIII. GENESEE CONFERENCE. 

IN the autumn of 1843, having now finished my 
work in Auburn, I was transferred to the Genesee 
Conference, and stationed at Phelps. From bad 
management of an inadequate income, I had fallen 
in debt to the amount of about five hundred dol- 
lars. This troubled my conscience, and made me 
very unhappy. I resolved to live on half my 
receipts, and buy no more books, till I had paid 
the uttermost farthing. Two years sufficed, and 
since that I have never gone in debt for anything. 

Soon after our settlement in Phelps, it became 
painfully apparent that my dear Mary was in a 
decline. She talked of it calmly, and seemed per- 
fectly resigned to the will of God. " For your 
sake," she said, " I would like to live, but not for 
my own ; to depart, and be with Christ, were far 
better." One morning she entered my study with 
a handkerchief saturated with blood. " See ! " she 
exclaimed ; " here is my summons to our Father's 
house! Now I know that I shall remain with you 
but little longer ! " She had had a pulmonary 
hemorrhage. From that hour she ceased to talk of 
things earthly, and cared not to hear of them. 



122 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Literally, her conversation was in Heaven. The 
love of Christ and the hope of glory were her con- 
stant themes, and often she rejoiced with joy 
unspeakable. Three months later, we com- 
mended her departing soul into the hands of her 
Savior. 

Sad and lonely, the next week, I set out for New 
York, where the General Conference was already 
assembling. Two very dear friends — Bagnall and 
Lindsay— from the Wesleyan University, had prom- 
ised to meet me there. In their fellowship, and 
that of others whom I loved, I hoped to find help 
and consolation. On the first evening, Dr. Thomp- 
son, President of the Wesleyan University of Ohio, 
preached the Missionary Sermon before the confer- 
ence, and I was sent into the pulpit to close the 
service. The text was: "Arise, shine; for thy 
light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen 
upon thee." The discourse was classic in style and 
logical in structure, abounding in noble thought 
and the happiest illustrations. I thought I had 
never heard a sermon in all respects more perfect. 
He invited me to visit him at the university. Not 
long afterward I was there as his guest. Having 
preached in the church Sunday morning, I was to 
address the students in the college chapel at 3 p. 
m. The Doctor advised me to go to my room and 
rest, saying he -would call me in good time for the 
chapel service. Thus made easy, I soon fell asleep. 
A thunderous beating upon my door awoke me. 
"Get up!" cried mine host; "we are an hour be- 
hind time ! I forgot all about it ! " I hastened to 



GENESEE CONFERENCE. 



123 



the chapel, and found that the students had been 
waiting for us more than an hour. 

" Most great men have their idiosyncrasies," said 
one of the professors to me afterward. " Dr. 
Thompson, when he gives his mind to a matter, be- 
comes so absorbed in it as sometimes to forget 
everything else." He then told me this story: A 
rich farmer had invited the Doctor to dinner. He 
handed his guest a newspaper, asking him to read 
an article he indicated, and give his judgment of a 
theory which it contained. The article was long, 
and the theory took full possession of the Doctor's 
mind. Having read it, he rose, walked to the grate, 
laid the paper on the fire, then went back and spat 
on the sofa ! I gave it to the professor as my opin- 
ion, that a man who could preach such a sermon as 
I heard from Dr. Thompson at the General Confer- 
ence had a right to burn up anybody's newspaper 
and spit on anybody's sofa ! Dr. T. became a 
bishop. 

This General Conference of 1844 made itself fa- 
mous by the division of the Methodist Church. 
Bishop Andrew had become by marriage the owner 
of slaves, whom he could not free according to the 
laws of Georgia. This fact made him unacceptable 
in the northern conferences. The bishops as a 
body desired no action in the case. They could so 
arrange their work as to keep Bishop Andrew fully 
occupied in the southern conferences. But the 
northern delegates were on principle opposed to 
any such arrangement. The Methodist Episcopate 
was an office of general superintendence. A bishop 



124 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ought to be acceptable in any and all of the confer- 
ences. Bishop Andrew's connection with slavery 
would in some conferences seriously embarrass the 
exercise of his Episcopal functions, and in others 
render it impossible. Ought he not to desist from 
his work as a Bishop so long as the impediment 
should remain ? The debate on the several ques- 
tions involved was one of great interest, and called 
forth the abilities of the north and the south re- 
spectively as nothing else could have done. The 
main question was carried by a northern vote of a 
hundred and eleven, against a southern vote of 
sixty-nine. Bishop Andrew was virtually suspended, 
not for violation of Church law, but from considera- 
tions of expediency. The southern delegates raised 
a vigorous protest against what seemed to them an 
unjust and oppressive policy. They could not ac- 
quiesce in the action of the majority without im- 
pairing the work of the church in the south. 
Access to the plantations would be refused then, 
and hundreds of thousands of negroes would thus 
be deprived of the Gospel. Separation was inevi- 
table. A plan acceptable to both parties was agreed 
upon. There was to be a fixed boundary line, and 
a pro-rata division of all vested funds. A year later 
■ — May, 1845 — a convention was held in Louisville, 
and the southern brethren organized for work. In 
May, 1846, they held their first general conference 
at Petersburg, Va. At that conference, William 
Capers and Robert Paine were made bishops, and 
Lovick Pierce was commissioned to bear the frater- 
nal greetings of the body to the next general con- 



GENESEE CONFERENCE. 



125 



ference in the north. That general conference re- 
fused to recognize him, and repudiated the plan of 
separation. To obtain its portion of the church 
property, the Church South brought suit in the 
Supreme Court of the United States. The court 
decided that, the separation being by mutual agree- 
ment, the property formerly held by both still be- 
longed to both. But oh ! the unbrotherly bitter- 
ness, on both sides, that ensued, was something for 
other worlds to weep over ! 

Call this a digression, and let us return to the 
Genesee Conference. That body held its annual 
session this year at Phelps, and Bishop Hamlin pre- 
sided whispering, but preached on Sunday in the 
open air like the silver trumpeting of jubilee. 
Dr. Olin was with us again in his great humility, 
and it was the last time I ever saw him. Dr. Noah 
Levings, agent for the American Bible Society, 
made a glorious speech for the Oracles of God. I 
know not how long it was after this, that he lay 
dying in Cincinnati ; and when they raised him up, 
and put the big Bible behind his pillow, he ex- 
claimed :" O blessed book! guide of my youth, 
strength of my manhood, and stay of my declining 
years ! how wretched were I at this hour without 
thy precious revelations ! " 

From this conference I went to Batavia. My two 
children, kindly cared for by friends, were not with 
me. Desolate and gloomy, I lived at the hotel. 
One of my truest friends, with his genial wife, had 
rooms in the same house — the Rev. Byron Sunder- 
land, of the Presbyterian Church — afterward Dr. 



126 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Sunderland, and Chaplain to the Senate, in Wash- 
ington, D. C. He was a frank, ardent, brotherly 
soul, whose sunny face and cheerful manner be- 
guiled me of many a melancholy hour. My elect 
beloved — Allen Steele — was but ten miles distant ; 
and when saddest I visited him, sometimes remain- 
ing three or four days. 

I had a class leader — an excellent man — who 
economized time by sleeping under my sermons. 
He was a good reader. Called away for a Sunday, 
I asked him to read a sermon in my absence. Un- 
luckily, it was one of my own. The somniferous 
effect of my preaching upon him I had attributed, 
not to the matter, but -to the voice. The sequel 
proved the contrary. Standing within the chancel, 
he read till his utterance became inaudible, and the 
fall of the manuscript upon the floor awoke him to 
consciousness. He looked down at the disaster a 
moment . and then, without picking it up, took his 
hat and walked out of the church. 

Once, on a summer morning, the doors being 
open, I gave out the hymn — " Abraham when 
severely tried." My chorister struck his fork, and 
began — " Abraham." Pausing, he said — " Too 
low;" struck his fork again, and began on a higher 
key — "Abraham," when an idiotic fellow appeared 
in the doorway, and sang out : " He don't hear 
you ; call louder! " No singing was now possible ; 
and I proceeded to soothe the unquiet people with 
one of my sleepy sermons. 

I had been out to deliver a temperance lecture, 
and was returning after ten o'clock at night. It 



THE SAILOR. 



127 



was intensely dark, and I could scarcely see the road 
before me. I was arrested by a muffled voice that 
seemed to issue from the earth at a little distance 
on my left. Approaching, I found a 'pair of feet on 
the brink of a ditch, and the head that belonged to 
them lying in the bottom, whence came the words : 

" Hoora, hoora, for Polk an' Dallis ! 
We'll hang Hinery Clah upon the gallis ! " 

I pulled the paddy out, straightened him up, put 
him into the road, and sent him on his way re- 
joicing. 

XXIX. THE SAILOR. 

The next two years were spent in the service of 
the American Seamen's Friends Society. With 
headquarters in New York, I travelled extensively 
and collected much money. The cause was popu- 
lar, pulpits everywhere were open, the romance of 
the enterprise proved a stimulus to my zeal, and 
with a delightful liberality my audiences responded 
to the appeal for " them that go down to the sea 
in ships." 

A year and a half had passed since the desola- 
tion of my home. I now married Leila Adaline 
Lindsley. She was bright and joyous, full of 
genius and poetry. My little daughter, Felicia 
Hemans, became strongly attached to her, and she 
responded warmly to the child's affection. She 
interested herself in my work, and showed large 
sympathy for the suffering sailor. From many a 
poor fellow she drew the sad story of a sinful life, 



128 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



and into many a wounded soul poured the oil and 
wine of Christian consolation. 

On one occasion she approached a young man 
sitting in thoughtful silence, with a look of unut- 
terable sorrow upon his face, and tenderly asked 
the cause of his unhappiness. "O Lady!" he 
answered with a sigh, " I have enough to make me 
unhappy ; and if you knew it all I think you would 
say I deserve to be unhappier than I am. Six 
years ago I had a good home in this city. My 
father and mother were the best of Christians, and 
they prayed often for poor Will. My only sister 
I loved as my own soul, and she was the sweetest 
sister a bad boy ever had. I was wild and way- 
ward. I wanted to see the world. I ran away, 
and embarked on a whaling cruise. I was ashamed 
to write home. None of them knew what had 
become of me. This is my first return. As soon 
as I landed, I went to seek the home I had left. 
It was occupied by others. They told me my 
father had died four years ago ; and my mother, 
dear soul, soon followed him. My sister had mar- 
ried, and gone west. I know not where she is, and 
have not money to travel. They had all given me 
up for lost — never expected to see me again. I 
fear my misconduct broke my mother's heart. Oh, 
if I could but ask her forgiveness ! Three weeks I 
have been in port, and this is the first time a lady 
has spoken to me — God bless you for it ! and the 
first time any one has spoken to me as a Christian." 
Then, turning to me, he added: " Captain, I want 
a ship. I am tired of port. I have no friends here. 



THE SAILOR. 



I29 



Can you get me a ship ? " But the poor fellow 
had already found the good Samaritan. Mrs. C. 
commended the case to Capt. Richardson, and soon 
afterward he embarked, a much happier man. 

Another thus related his experience, which L. 
wrote down in her diary : " He had just come into 
port. In his best Sunday rigging he embarked for 
a pleasure cruise about town. Before he had 
sailed many knots, he ran afoul of an old shipmate, 
and asked him to come aboard. The latter said he 
had learned the folly and wickedness of Sunday 
carousing ; was now bound for the Bethel, and 
would be glad to have his company. So he gave 
up his frolic, and went with his friend. Captain 
Chase gave him a broadside which raked him fore 
and aft. Mast and rigging went by the board. He 
thought the hull was sinking. Just before the 
amen, he hauled off to get away from Bob. Two 
nights later, Bob met him again, and brought him 
again to Bethel. The Captain was harder with him 
than before. He bore down upon him with all his 
guns. Before it was' ended, he was a total wreck, 
and every sea swept over him from stem to stern. 
Washed from the deck, he sank like lead in the 
mighty waters. Like Simon he cried : ' Save, Lord, 
or I perish ! ' Rising again, he seized a rope 
thrown to his drowning soul, and was brought 
aboard the Old Ship Zion, and all his sins were left 
behind in the depths of the sea. Five years now 
he had been sailing with Jesus, and soon he hoped 
to round the cape of death and make the harbor of 
glory." 



130 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



I made successful excursions to some of the New 
England seaports. I visited Albany, Utica, Roches- 
ter, and Buffalo. Everywhere I met with old 
friends, who responded liberally to my appeals. In 
six weeks I preached forty-three sermons, and col- 
lected more than four thousand dollars. The fre- 
quent reunions with fellow laborers of other years 
furnished a rich refreshment to my soul, worth more 
than mountains of gold and continents of silver. 

In Poughkeepsie a new Methodist church had 
been built, and I was asked to officiate at its dedi- 
cation. Thinking the occasion would afford me a 
good opportunity to do something for my special 
work, I agreed to go. The President and chief sec- 
retary of our society thought it would be a failure. 
Poughkeepsie had been tried, but nothing could be 
obtained from the Dutch city. I went, dedicated 
the church, remained over Sunday, preached five 
sermons, brought back fifteen hundred dollars, and 
five hundred more were sent the next week to our 
treasurer. 

This happened at Christmas in 1845. Above 
Newburg the Hudson was frozen over. Leaving 
the steamer there, I hired a boy to drive me in a 
cutter up the west shore to a point opposite Pough- 
keepsie. Thence I crossed on the ice, a distance of 
nearly or quite a mile. There were many air-holes to 
be avoided, and near them the ice was cracked and 
treacherous. But with a long pole I felt my way 
through the darkness, steering by the lights on the 
other side, and arriving there in safety near mid- 
night. 



THE SAILOR. 



Returning when my errand was over, I went by 
sleigh to Fishkill, opposite Newburg. The steamer 
was just backing out through the broken ice from 
the pier. A boatman said she could not come 
across to Fishkill, but he believed we could catch 
her in the middle of the river. It was dangerous, 
but he would try it for five dollars. I handed him 
the half-eagle. We ran on the ice, pushing the boat 
before us, till we reached the open water, then 
sprang in and rowed till we came to a field of float- 
ing ice. We got out upon it, dragged up our boat, 
shoved her across into the water beyond, then got 
in and rowed again. Thus we went alternately over 
the ice and through the water; while the steamer 
answering our signals, waited for us midway of the 
stream. There were three or four hundred pas- 
sengers on board, who waved hats and handker- 
chiefs, with cheer on cheer. When we reached the 
steamer, the captain gave me his hand, saying: 
" You are the bravest man I ever saw ; I expected 
every moment to see you go under the ice ! " I re- 
plied: "You can hardly call it bravery, Captain, 
where there is no consciousness of danger; I was so 
bent on getting aboard, that no thought of danger 
occurred to me." " And that is just what saved 
you," rejoined the captain ; " if you had paused for a 
moment, you would have seen your danger, and 
never have reached us." "Look yonder! " cried a 
passenger, pointing to the Fishkill wharf; "there 
stand a hundred people who have been watching 
to see the last of you ! " At the same moment 
came a ringing shout from the long line of specta- 



132 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



tors referred to, to which the crowd on board re- 
sponded, and immediately we were under full head- 
way for the city. 

The more I reflected upon it, the more convinced 
was I of the peril I had passed. In Uncle Tom's 
Cabin, Eliza skips across the Ohio on the ice, leap- 
ing from cake to cake. What was her feat to mine ? 
The Ohio is not half so broad as the Hudson at 
Newburg. Woman is naturally braver than man ; 
and in such an emergency, has less in herself to 
overcome. Mrs. Stowe's heroine heard the baying 
of the blood-hounds behind her; I had no such 
stimulus. She was fleeing with her babe to save it 
from slavery ; no babe of mine was in like peril. 
Her transit occurred only in the brain of a 
Beecher ; mine was rather more real. God had yet 
some service for me on this solar planet, and 

" Man is immortal till his work is done." 

After a year in New York, we removed to Phila- 
delphia, whence I could more readily reach some 
important places farther south. An old gentleman, 
occupying the seat next to us in the car, as we 
crossed the Hackensack bridge gave us the follow- 
ing narrative : " I passed this place in a stage-coach 
near fifty years ago. The structure of that day 
was old and rickety, and the river was swollen by a 
freshet. One of the supports gave way, plunging 
coach, horses and passengers into the flood. There 
was a shriek as they went down, and then a fearful 
struggle for life in the turbid waters. With much 



THE SAILOR. 



133 



difficulty and mutual help, all managed to reach 
terra fir ma ; except an infant, swept from its 
mother's arms, and to all appearance irrevocably 
lost. All hearts, grateful for their own escape, 
were touched with sympathy for the distracted 
mother. Such as could swim did their utmost to 
find at least the lifeless body of their little com- 
panion. I was the successful seeker. Some dis- 
tance down the stream, I grasped the child by its 
clothes, and brought it safe ashore. Thirty years 
later I crossed the bridge again in company with 
eight passengers. One of these was John Summer- 
field, to whom I told the story. Scarcely had I 
concluded, when a lady present modestly asked my 
name. I gave it promptly, and desired to know 
the secret of her interest in the relation. With 
much emotion she replied : 1 1, sir, was the infant 
you rescued, and I thank God for this meeting with 
my preserver ! ' Mr. Summerfield was much moved, 
and I heard him make a beautiful use of the in- 
cident in a subsequent sermon on Providence." 

During the summer of 1846 I attended three 
camp-meetings — one in New Jersey, one in Dela- 
ware, and one on the Eastern Shore of Maryland — ■ 
at all of which, with good success, I presented the 
claims of seamen upon the liberality of Christians. 
At the last mentioned, after as strong an appeal as 
I was capable of making, with a basin in each hand 
I went through the assembly, and returned to the 
stand with so much jewelry as I sold afterward for 
nearly five hundred dollars, while the money con- 
tributed amounted to six hundred more. 



134 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



During the same period I made my first literary 
effort in the form of a book. Without any relaxa- 
tion of my labors for the seamen, and chiefly while 
travelling by railway, and steamboat, I wrote the 
Life of Christmas Evans, and translated his 
SERMONS from the Welsh. Both were published 
together in one large volume by Jas. Harmstead of 
Philadelphia. The book had a good sale ; but the 
publisher failed, and I got nothing for my work. 
A few years ago, seeing a notice of a new book— 
"The Wild Welsh Preacher"— by Paxton 
Hood, I sent for it. It turned out to be my own 
book, very much transposed, the sermons broken up 
and distributed through the narrative, two new 
chapters added, and about forty pages of miscellane- 
ous extracts at the end omitted. Paxton Hood had 
been in America, carried my Christmas Evans home 
with him, and republished it in London as his own. 
In my last visit to England, I bore the original with 
me, intending to make him a friendly call ; but I 
had scarcely arrived in London, when he went to 
his God with " a lie in his right hand ! " 

XXX. EDWARD T. TAYLOR. 

While we sojourned a short time in .Baltimore, 
the renowned Seamen's Preacher of Boston came 
there to dedicate a new Bethel. His characteristic 
eloquence refreshed us like a royal feast. For an 
hour and a half he kept us weeping and laughing by 
turns, and half the time both together. His quaint 
conceits, vivid pictures, and inimitable pathos, were 



EDWARD T. TAYLOR. 



135 



irresistible. Within ten minutes from his text, 
some of the sailors began to give vent to their emo- 
tions. The captain paused, and in a deep monotone 
exclaimed : " Steady, there at the helm ! we're not 
out to sea yet ! steady ! " And something like this 
he repeated again and again during the earlier half of 
his sermon, and so managed to keep all subdued 
and orderly. After that he might as well have chid 
the wind or rebuked the wave. The magician had 
raised a tempest he could not control, and surge after 
surge swept over us like the sea. 

His illustrations were novel and striking. Speak- 
ing of the sensibility and magnanimity of the sailor, 
he exclaimed : "There's a heart for you, as fine as 
a lily and as open as a sunflower ! " The emanci- 
pation of the soul from the power of sin was the re- 
lease of an eagle from confinement. " Cage an 
eagle ? " he cried ; " I would as soon cage an angel ! 
Every quill in his wing proclaims him made for the 
mountain tops that are nearest heaven. The Indians 
worship him as the messenger of God. My friend's 
eagle was melancholy. He looked upward, and 
longed for his native sky. He stretched his wings, as 
if he meant, ' What are these for ? ' I persuaded his 
master to open the cage. The noble bird walked 
round and round his prison, till perfectly assured of 
his a freedom. Then he shook his feathers and flapped 
his wings in exultation. The next moment, lifting 
his fine eye toward the zenith, he.unfurled his canvas, 
and sailed away in circles, up, and up, and up, till we 
lost sight of him in the blaze of the sun ! " The 
application of the emblem to the enfranchised soul 



136 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



was like the advent of the angel in the apostle's pris- 
on ; and an old tar just in front of the pulpit sprang 
to his feet, waving his arms as if they were eagle's 
wings, and shouting at the top of his voice — " The 
year of jubilee is come ! " 

This remarkable man had been a sailor from his 
seventh year. Being in Boston, he "was sculling 
along up Bromfield street," when he "heard some- 
thing going on in the Methodist chapel." The 
place was crowded, and he obtained entrance only 
through an open window. " A seventy-four pounder 
was blazing away in the pulpit ; " and he had not 
been long there, when he " got a broadside that set 
him on his beam ends." The seventy-four pounder 
was Elijah Hedding, afterward Bishop. Under his 
ministry converted, young Taylor soon began preach- 
ing. A short time sufficed to show that his proper 
work was among seamen ; and to their spiritual good 
he devoted more than forty years in the mariner's 
chapel of Boston. The mayor of the city on a pub- 
lic occasion declared his influence in that relation 
" worth more than the vigilance of any hundred po- 
licemen." 

Once, when he was preaching, a sailor rose to go 
out. "See!" cried the preacher ; "he flies! The 
enemy flies ! I've hulled him ! " The sailor paused, 
turned round, and said : " Go on with your yarn, 
Captain, till I go and splice the main brace ; then I'll 
be back, and hear you out." "He flies!" resumed 
the preacher ; " 'tis too hot for him ! He can't stand 
it ! I've hit him between wind and water ! If 
he don't turn, and haul in at the Gospel Dock, he'll 



EDWARD T. TAYLOR. 



137 



go down all standing ! " It is hardly necessary to 
add, the sailor returned to his seat, and the Captain 
went bravely on to the end. 

Having spent so much of his earlier life upon the 
water, no wonder Father Taylor loved the sea, and 
drew from it most of his unrivalled imagery. His 
whole soul was in his work and in the pulpit he 
was always on deck. He never wrote a verse of 
poetry in his life, but spoke more poetry than 
all the American poets ever wrote. On the mission, 
ary platform in New York, he turned to the chair 
and said : " When I die, sir, don't smother me 
up in the earth with the worms ; but carry me out a 
thousand miles into my own green sea, and let me 
down in a thousand fathoms of water, where I have 
bespoken the seaweed for my shroud and the coral 
for my monument ! " 

He had no use for an improved theology, or any 
philosophical substitute for Christianity. Coming 
out of the hall where he had heard one of Emer- 
son's transcendental discourses, the sailor preacher 
said, " It would take as many sermons like that to 
convert a human soul as it would quarts of 
skimmed milk to make a man drunk." He said to 
Gov. Andrew, " Mr. Emerson is one of the sweetest 
creatures God ever made ; there is a screw loose 
somewhere in the machinery, yet I cannot tell 
where it is, for I never heard it jar. He must go to 
Heaven when he dies, for if he went to hell the 
devil would not know what to do with him. But 
he knows no more of the religion of the New Testa- 
ment than Balaam's ass did of the Hebrew grammar." 



138 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



When Captain Taylor addressed the anniversary 
assemblage of the American Bible Society in New- 
York, with Dr. Bascom on the platform ready 
to second the resolution he offered, the orator 
brought a brilliant speech to an abrupt conclusion 
with these words: "But how foolish it seems in 
me to try to entertain you with my whistle, when I 
know you are as anxious as I am to hear the great 
thunder-pipe of the Alleghanies ! " And were it 
less foolish in me to write more of this incompar- 
able man ? Abel Stevens, in his History of Metho- 
dism, has glorified him with facts beyond all 
eulogy. Dickens, in his American Notes, has given 
him many pages of panegyric. Buckingham, Fred- 
rika Bremer, Harriet Martineau, Mrs. Jameison, and 
many more, have expressed the highest estimate of 
his natural and peculiar eloquence, and the singular 
devotion of his transcendent powers to the improve- 
ment of a much neglected class of men. Having 
heard him twice, I thank God for the glorious 
endowment of his servant, and for the hope of see- 
ing him again " where all the ship's company meet" 
and " there shall be no more sea ! " 

XXXI. SOUTHWARD. 

MY dear wife was not very strong. In less than 
a year there were alarming symptoms of phthisis. 
Without delay, something must be done for her. 
Just what it should be, was a question not easy to 
answer. I had no desire to relinquish my present 
work, nor was she willing that I should. The 



SOUTHWARD. 



l 39 



officers of the society offered me the seamen's 
chaplaincy at Sydney, New South Wales. The 
climate would be excellent for L., and I would be 
doing good service for the society. But this was 
deemed too much of an exile from the civilized 
world. Then they proposed a floating Bethel in 
Mobile Bay, where the air w r ould be the purest and 
best, with easy acess to the city. To this also there 
were some serious objections , and after a careful 
consideration of the matter, I finally declined the 
offer. 

It was now the Autumn of 1846. The Methodist 
Episcopal Church South was fully organized. I 
wrote to Bishop Soule and Dr. Bascom, proposing 
to take work in any of the southern states. They 
gave me cordial welcome, and invited me to the 
approaching session of the Kentucky Conference at 
Covington. Formally dissolving my connection 
with northern Methodism, and furnished with a 
very cordial commendatory letter by Bishop Janes 
to the southern Bishops and brethren, I appeared 
at Covington, and was warmly received. Bishop 
Soule wished to send me to New Orleans. Poydras 
Street Church had become vacant by the resigna- 
tion of W. R. Nicholson, who had applied for 
orders in the Episcopal Church. Consenting to go 
thither, I was at once transferred to the Louisiana 
Conference. 

The trip down the Mississippi opened to us a new 
world of wonders, unlike anything we had ever 
imagined. The Indian-summer haze filled the 
air with a soft amber radiance, and made the broad 



140 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



river seem a fairy-sea of liquid gold, and the sand- 
bars covered with innumerable white cranes might 
have been mistaken for banks of snow. The count- 
less islands, clothed with the most symmetrical 
forests of cottonwood, each exhibiting its own 
particular stage of growth and indicating the age of 
the island, to such as have never seen them before, 
are objects of incomparable beauty. Here and 
there open narrow chutes among them, through 
which we glide swiftly in the shade, while every 
puff of the engine is answered by the echoing wood. 
The perpetual windings of the giant river give an 
endless succession of new prospects, fraught with 
ever varying loveliness. Now the shore seems an 
interminable cane-brake — the cane, twenty or thirty 
feet high, and as thick as it can stand, furnishing an 
impenetrable covert for wild animals; then come 
vast cotton-fields, white with the matured product, 
as if last night there had been an abundant fall of 
snow. Here for many miles march to the rear 
innumerable tall cypresses, trailing their cloaks of 
gray moss, like an interminable procession of 
hooded monks ; and there stands a bold promontory, 
crowned with an imperial grove of magnolias, inter- 
spersed with far-spreading live-oaks, and all woven 
together into an impervious roof of vines. 

One day we captured a bear, and the next day a 
deer, swimming the river — incidents which furnished 
us much amusement and a number of good dinners. 
As we drew near New Orleans, the scene changed 
rapidly — large and handsome plantation houses, 
populous negro quarters, goodly fields of sugar- 



NEW ORLEANS. 



141 



cane, orange groves and fig trees. And here at last 
arriving, we were gladly received by a people who 
had been some time without a regular pastor, and 
were anxiously awaiting our advent. 

XXXII. NEW ORLEANS. 

At once I began my work, and the interest 
seemed to warrant a special effort. For four weeks, 
we had daily service, and I preached all the ser- 
mons. Nightly the noble edifice was crowded with 
serious and thoughtful hearers, many anxiously 
inquired what they must do to be saved, and large 
numbers continually were added to the church. 

One evening a handsome and bright-looking 
young man came forward, and begged leave to 
speak a few words. " Eight years ago," said he, 
" in Binghamton, N. Y., your pastor received me as a 
probationer into the Methodist church. Under his 
labors, I was led, in my eleventh year, to the knowl- 
edge of Christ and the fellowship of his people. 
Since that day, I have wandered far, and lived the 
careless life of a soldier. But yesterday I arrived 
here, returning from the war in Mexico. I strayed 
into this house to-night, not knowing whom I was 
to hear." Then, turning to me : " Brother Cross, 
was it not for the salvation of my soul God brought 
you to New Orleans? It is a blessed providence. 
I give myself anew to God. Will you pray for me, 
and take me back into the church ? " 

Great was the effect of this little speech upon the 
vast assembly. We prayed for the weeping peni- 



1 4 2 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



tent, and I formally received him the second time 
into the Methodist communion. Instead of return- 
ing north, he chose to remain in the Crescent City, 
proved the most inquisitive and improvable member 
of my Bible-class, became a useful officer in our 
Sunday-school, interested himself in every depart- 
ment of Christian work, and showed the genuine- 
ness of his repentance by a devout and blameless 
life. Subsequently he was made a minister of 
Christ, a presiding elder, Doctor in Divinity, Editor 
of the N. Orleans Christian Advocate, and in 1883 
died a Bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church 
South. His name was Linus Parker. 

Amidst these encouraging labors, I was stricken 
down of typhoid fever. Six weeks I lay helpless, 
and scarcely hoped to recover. My trust was 
strong in the God of my salvation, and the assur- 
ance of his love kept me serenely happy. Prayer, 
I believe, 

" Rose for me like a fountain night and day ; " 

and I know not why my recovery may not be 
regarded as an answer to the intercession of my 
brethren. Every night, for a long time, some 
Masonic brother from the lodge to which I be- 
longed came and sat by my pillow. One of these 
always prayed with me. He would not give me 
his name. Twenty-two years later, during a visit 
to New Orleans, I preached a number of times in 
St. Paul's Church ; and the Rector — Dr. Goodrich 
• — reminded me of some interesting incidents of 
this illness, and informed me that he was my 



NEW ORLEANS. 



143 



unknown watcher. How many ministering angels 
may in the future life reveal themselves to us as 
having been the agents of our consolation or deliv- 
erance amidst the sorrows and perils of our present 
sojourn in the wilderness ! 

Soon after my restoration, at a meeting of the 
Official Board, Thomas Price, one of our class 
leaders, moved a resolution that we should hold a 
love-feast after the old Methodist regime— with 
closed doors. Some thought the measure unwise, 
but yielded from deference to the mover. One 
said : " Brother Price, suppose you yourself should 
accidently come a minute too late ; would you 
have us open the door to admit you ? " " No ! " 
replied Bro. P. emphatically ; " keep me out, and 
any one else that comes after the door is closed ! " 
The resolution was adopted, and the love-feast was 
held. While I was conducting the opening devo- 
tions, there came a thunderous beating at the door. 
Of course, it was not opened till the prayer was 
ended. Then in marched Bro. Price with his wife 
— the most indignant saint I ever saw. He never 
forgave me for carrying out his own w 7 ishes. 

The Rev. Henry B. Bascom, D. D., LL. D., 
Chancellor of Transylvania University, visited us, 
and remained three weeks, preaching six sermons 
such as New Orleans had never heard. The 
majesty of thought, the splendor of diction, the 
order of illustration, the perpetual rush of meta- 
phor, the impetuous tremulo of utterance, a voice 
of unrivalled excellence, an eye equaled only by 
the eagle's, an action in the highest degree appro- 



144 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



priate and forcible, the whole incomparable man 
quivering through every fibre with the intensity of 
thought and emotion, exceeded all my previous 
conceptions of human eloquence. I had heard 
Bascom before, but not as I heard him now. My 
feelings were something like those I had imagined 
of the prophet, when the angel took him by the 
hair of his head, and bore him through the air over 
the tops of the mountains, and brought him to the 
Holy City. Most of the sermons were two hours 
long ; and again and again the thousands held their 
breath till the preacher reached his climax; and 
then, as he paused, there was a deep breathing of 
relief, followed by a business-like adjustment for 
another stretch. He who, having never heard Bas- 
com, now reads his printed sermons, finds them 
over-wrought, too metaphorical, attuned altogether 
to an unnaturally high key; but they fitted the 
man perfectly, the elocution justified the rhetoric, 
and nothing ever struck the listener as incongruous 
or extravagant. There is, perhaps, no more re- 
markable illustration of the injustice of cold crit- 
icism to the impassioned utterances of the living 
orator. 

I told Dr. Bascom that I had heard of his having 
been mistaken once for Daniel Webster. " More 
than once," he responded, 44 this has happened. 
The most remarkable instance was in Philadelphia, 
when I was Chaplain to Congress. I boarded a 
steamer for Burlington. Political excitement was 
running high. The vessel was crowded with 
passengers. I had scarcely stepped on deck, 



NEW ORLEANS. 



145 



when I heard a low murmur — * Daniel Webster ! 
Daniel Webster ! ' I looked around to see the 
nation's orator. A gentleman pulled off his hat, 
and made a low bow to me, saying: ' Mr. Webster, 
will you favor us with a word ? ' A voice cried : 
( Daniel Webster ! Three cheers for Daniel Web- 
ster ! ' The shout swept the vessel from stem to 
stern; In great confusion, I mounted a chair, and 
began to say : ' Ladies and gentlemen ! You have 
mistaken my identity ! I am not Daniel Webster ! ' 
The gentleman who had solicited the speech ex- 
claimed, with a laugh : ' That's too good a joke ! 
It is Daniel Webster! IVe heard him a hundred 
times ! ' The cheering was renewed, peal on peal. 
Not knowing what else to do, I waved my hand, 
and said : ' Ladies and gentlemen ! If I am Daniel 
Webster, I never knew it till now ; and you will 
pardon me for having mistaken my own identity, 
when I inform you they have always called me 
Henry B. Bascom ! ' ' Good ! ' cried the man with 
his hat in his hand ; ' Henry B. Bascom, Chaplain 
to Congress! second to none but Webster! Three 
cheers for Bascom ! ' The clamor became more 
vociferous than ever, and I could quell it only by 
making a speech." 

I was walking the street with a friend. Before us 
walked two gentlemen in earnest conversation. 
The voice of one of them was a bass of peculiar 
melody. I said to my friend : " That must be 
Henry Clay ! No other man has a voice like that ! " 
I had never seen Henry Clay, nor did I know that 
he was in the city. " Let us pass them ! " I 



146 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



added : " I shall recognize the mouth ! " We passed, 
and it was Henry Clay. The next day he called to 
see Dr. Bascom, and I had the two greatest living 
American orators in my parlor. 

It was Mr. Clay who introduced Bascom to Con- 
gress as his nominee for the Chaplaincy. Of 
Bascom's abilities no man ever had a higher es- 
timate. When one said to him: "Mr. Clay, our 
Church is much indebted to you for Henry B. Bas- 
com," he replied : " It is very little that I have ever 
done for Mr. Bascom, but Mr. Bascom has done 
much for himself, and God has done much more for 
him." 

My illustrious guest must see whatever of interest 
the Crescent City had to show. I took him to every 
public building, every charitable institution, every 
ascertained historic locality, down the river to the 
Balize, over the battle-ground where Andrew Jack- 
son fought behind cotton breastworks, wherever 
patriotism had reared a memorial or reddened the 
soil with gore. 

One day, with a large party of friends, w T e went 
over to Lake Ponchartrain. A chief item of the 
excursion was a fish dinner. The lake abounded in 
fish of every variety, from shad to alligator-gar. It 
was desirable that the official caterers should know 
something of the Doctor's taste. Cautiously I ap- 
proached him on the subject. Pretty freely I des- 
canted on the peculiar qualities of trout, bass, perch, 
pike, pickerel, buffalo, etc. At last I ventured to 
ask what he thought of sheep's-head — which was in 
good sooth the most available dish for the day; 



NEW ORLEANS. 



147 



when he replied, with much of modest hesitation : 
"Well, Cross, to be frank with you, I never did 
fancy mutton ! " 

After dinner we strolled informally along the 
margin of the lake. The orator was observed 
wandering alone, head bowed and hands behind, as 
if meditating his sermon for the evening. Coming 
to a log which lay partly in the water, he 
stepped upon it, and it began gliding into the 
lake. He leaped away, and saw the live log 
paddling industriously off in the opposite direc- 
tion. 

Thereupon one of the company pointed out the 
hull of a sunken sloop some distance from the shore, 
and told us what had happened there a few days 
before. A man had rowed out to the wreck to raise 
a chest from the hold. Having toiled till he was 
tired, he lay down to rest. The deck was nearly on 
a level with the surface of the lake Soon he fell 
asleep, and was awakened by something pulling at 
his foot. A huge saurian was dragging him into 
the water. He seized, a marling-spike which he had 
been using, and plunged it into the monster's eye. 
Instantly he let go his hold, and departed in foam- 
ing disgust. The foot was fearfully mangled, and 
its owner was now lying at the hospital. We shud- 
dered at the recital, and congratulated our guest. 
A few days later he returned to Kentucky, and my 
next missive from Lexington contained the intelli- 
gence that Transylvania University had bestowed 
on me the honorary title — as unexpected as it was 
unsolicited — of Artitnn Magister. 



148 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



XXXIII. COVINGTON. 

SIXTY miles from New Orleans, on the opposite 
side of Lake Ponchartrain, a small river called 
Bogue Falaya finds its terminus in that beautiful 
sheet of water. On its west bank, about fifteen 
miles from its mouth, a lovely village hides in a 
grove of evergreen. It is primitive in appearance, 
and wild enough to be romantic. They call it 
Covington. 

Here I had an excellent friend — Judge Penn — 
who a few years later passed to a purer Paradise. 
His rural home was charming, and he invited us to 
be his guests for the summer. A few cases of yel- 
low fever having occurred in the city, I was glad to 
avail myself of a safe retreat for L. and her " little 
poetess " — Felicia Hemans. Most of the time I 
was with them, returning to the city only as duty 
called me, and lodging when there with one of my 
stewards. A burglar had been in the house, and 
carried away some silver. The first night, conduct- 
ing me to my chamber, my host called a large New- 
foundland dog, and made him lie down at the side 
of my bed. " I will leave the window open," said 
he, " but you will be perfectly safe with Watch in 
the room." Having slept soundly, I awoke in the 
morning, and was in the act of rising, when my 
faithful warder sprang upon the bed, with his paws 
upon my shoulders and his open mouth at my 
throat, saying as articulately as he could : " Lie 
down again ! don't you see I am here to keep you 



COVINGTON. 



149 



in bed ? " So the noble creature clearly interpreted 
his charge. Having no logic for the case, I settled 
back upon the pillow ; while Watch, unable to trust 
me, lay down upon the coverlet, with his eye fixed 
steadily upon mine. Again I dared not stir. The 
bell rang for breakfast. A second time it rang. 
But there I lay, a helpless captive, with my sullen 
conqueror at my side. At last his master came to 
my relief. " I'm ashamed of you, Watch ! " he 
said. " I thought you had better sense ! What a 
mistake you have made ! " I never knew him to 
make another, and his subsequent behavior abun- 
dantly disproved the implied imputation. Every 
morning, he accompanied his master to market, and 
returned alone with the dinner. One day I saw 
four large dogs attack him in concert. With digni- 
fied equanimity, he bore it as long as he could ; then 
turned aside with his basket and set it down close 
against the wall ; took his several assailants one 
after another, and shook them as if he would shake 
every joint asunder ; and finally in the most busi- 
ness-like manner imaginable, resumed his basket, and 
marched homeward without any sign of inflation. 
Satisfied that I was no burglar, Watch became my 
steadfast friend, and any moment would have 
perilled his life in my protection. 

Passing to and fro between the city and Coving- 
ton, I always carried my gun. The woods were full 
of game, and Bogue Falaya was alive with alligators. 
These terrible creatures floated about with only 
eyes and nose out of water, and a good marks- 
man could often send a bullet through the eye into 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the brain, while there was no access to the enemy 
through the thick plates of his armor. The pri- 
meval forest afforded me fine sport, the exercise was 
exhilarating and wholesome, and daily I revelled in 
my sylvan victories. Squirrels, rabbits, gophers, 
woodchucks and opossums were plenty ; and now 
and then a deer flashed through the undergrowth, 
or a wild turkey challenged the horse and his rider. 
Partridges and wild ducks I shot by the dozen. 
Owls hooted at me from the thicket, hawks 
screamed from the pinetops, and herons croaked 
from the marsh. Many a snow-white stork compli- 
mented the accuracy of my aim, while over the 
distant sand-bar the blue crane waved his broad 
wings in defiance. A king-snake — reptile of mar- 
vellous beauty — in the conquest of a large rattle- 
snake, gave me memorable illustration of the 
believer's triumph over the old serpent in the good 
fight of faith. I saw an enormous snake swimming 
across the river directly toward the point where 1 
stood. I fired, but probably failed. A moment he 
paused, raised his head, and without swerving from 
his course redoubled his speed. My piece was 
empty and there was no time to load. Successful 
retreat was victory. 

I dug through an embankment and drained a 
pond, to capture a mischievous crocodile, which no 
one could tell me very definitely what to do with 
when captured. A neighbor, who had lost a 
number of pigs, found the suspected depredator in 
a little reed-girdled pool, over which leaned a great 
live oak. He was huge and defiant. He liked his 



COVINGTON. 



quarters, and laughed at lead. The planter climbed 
the ilex with a log-chain, and dropped it over the 
saurian's ugly head. To the other end he attached 
a yoke of oxen, and said — " Gee up Buck ! Gee up, 
Bright ! " 

" Rogue never felt the halter draw, 
With good opinion of the law." 

Leviathan braced himself against manifest destiny, 
and began to puff and snort as if throwing up his 
pork. Buck and Bright heard and saw, and ran. 
And the planter ran and roared in vain. A whirl- 
wind of " whoas " could not have stopped them 
with such a phenomenon behind. The alligator 
was literally torn to fragments, and scattered across 
the field. The proprietor of the pigs had not cal- 
culated on so vast a revenge. 

Rather more frightful another encounter with one 
of these dangerous customers. A negro woman 
was singing over her week's washing on the bank of 
a bayou. A child three years old was with her. 
She left the little one leaning over the edge of the 
tub and paddling in the suds, while she attended to 
the boiling cauldron at a short distance. A thud 
and a splash suddenly checked her song. A huge 
crocodile had crept up the bank, struck at the child 
with his tail and knocked him into the tub instead 
of his open jaws. With firebrands the mother 
fought the dragon, and drove him back into the 
bayou. I wonder if she ever appreciated the narrow 
escape of her child. 



152 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Next in order comes the "cooning." Coonings 
vary in their minor details. This was a wild and 
weird night ramble on horseback — 

Over hill, over dale, 
Thorough bush, thorough brier, 

Over park, over pale, 
Thorough flood, thorough fire," 

Over tree, over trail, 

Thorough mud, thorough mire. 

and whatever else the reader is capable of imagining 
in quest of the cornfield despoiler. Nine men and 
boys we were, with about the same quantity of 
noisy canine flesh, and a sufficient number of negro 
torch-bearers to show the way and " shine the eyes 
of the varmints." Suitably accoutred and equipped, 
under the captaincy of the genial judge, about nine 
of the clock we set forth for desperate adventure. 
It was a dark and cloudy night, such as commonly 
chosen for cooning. Within the first hour we found 
what we sought. He had taken to a tree sur- 
rounded by water four feet deep. "A dismal 
place," said the Judge, "and the issue rather doubt- 
ful." But the boys were ardent, the dogs irre- 
pressible ; and in ten minutes, the tree was down, 
and the coon a captive. 

Our first achievement whetted the edge of our 
ambition. We swam bayous, floundered through 
marshes, stumbled over alligators, spurned bristling 
palmettos,- plunged into impenetrable jungles. 
Soon one of the darkies in the vanguard shouted : 
" Oh, Mas' Jack! heah coon! but him in a dismy 



COVINGTON. 



153 



place, an' up a dismy tree ! " In a trice the tree 
was prostrate, but the coon proved a wild-cat, which 
fought like a demon till the dogs rent him limb 
from limb. Toward morning we woke up a bear. 
He fled to his hollow tree. It was dry, and we set 
it on fire. Bruin contended bravely for his rights, 
but the odds were sore against him, and we had 
bear-steak for breakfast. 

And now, having "supped full of horrors," the 
reader may be ready for something milder. The 
temperance epidemic had anticipated the yellow 
fever. A grand convention was to be holden in 
Pike county, southern Mississippi. It behooved the 
Covington Total Abstinence Society to send a 
worthy deputation, with Judge Penn at their head. 
As candidate for gubernatorial honors, the Judge 
could not decline the commission. His daughter 
Rosa — a beautiful girl of fifteen — on behalf of the 
deputation, was to reply to the speech of welcome. 
The author of this narrative was to be the Demos- 
thenes of the day. Thirty strong, with three ban- 
ners, and a number of guns, we had a merry march 
of two days through the pine woods. Here and 
there we found a dwelling — a saw mill — a country 
store ; but no town nor tillage, if I remember cor- 
rectly, for sixty miles. 

Who does not know that a political candidate is 
the kindest creature in the world ? Naturally 
enough, the good Judge wanted to learn all about 
crops, business, the family health, etc. One woman 
told him " the earn crap was mighty weak, the 
backee was the most no account crap one 



154 



DAYS OF MY YEARS, 



ever seed, but they had a powerful crap o* 
sheep ! " 

On the top of a hill, enclosed with stately mag- 
nolias, we found the Baptist church — an immense 
barn without glass or paint. It had a membership 
of more than a thousand souls, and the old pastor 
was said to be much beloved. At the base of the 
small elevation, our Captain marshalled his forces to 
receive the Pike County Delegation, who were ex- 
pected to march down and give us welcome. Miss 
Rosa stood by her father in front. She had learned 
her speech thoroughly, and knew every gesture she 
had to make, and exactly where to make it. With 
the old pastor at their head, they came, halted 
within five paces, stood staring in dumb stupidity, 
no one making a sign. At the gentle suggestion of 
the Judge, when he thought they had satisfied their 
curiosity, they wheeled and preceded us up the 
slope. 

In the church the old man sang to a peculiar tune 
a prayer about fifteen minutes long, with all sorts of 
etymology. Then he stammered out a few words of 
welcome to " The Delecates of the Covenant Teetal- 
total Abstitninous Society." Miss Rosa replied 
with the utmost grace and propriety. A speech 
from Judge Penn finished these preliminary pro- 
ceedings. Then the old man gave out: "Hark! 
from the tombs a doleful sound ! " and I followed 
with my address. A rare meeting it was, and 
worthily enjoyed by all ; but I had never imagined, 
as possible anywhere in these United States, a white 
community so void of culture. 



YELLOW FEVER. 



155 



XXXIV. YELLOW FEVER. 

TERROR and despair ruled the city. In every 
house lay the dying or the dead. All business was 
suspended. The frightened people had fled. The 
death-cart was the most frequent vehicle seen in the 
street. Having left my beloved ones in safe 
quarters, I devoted all my energies to the aid of the 
perishing and the heart-broken. O Merciful God ! 
what scenes of woe and anguish I witnessed in 
those dreadful weeks ! A few cases are stamped 
upon my brain forever. 

I asked a wretched woman, by whose pillow I 
had prayed, if she did not desire to lead a better 
life; to which she replied : " If I die, I do ; if I live, 
I do not." Another, whom I found in one of the 
gayest houses of guilt, was the wife of a physician in 
St. Louis. A beautiful girl of fifteen bent weeping 
over her. She requested the girl to withdraw a few 
moments, that she might talk with me. " That is 
my sister," she said. " This morning she arrived in 
the city. She is as innocent as a babe. She knows 
not the character of this house. She knows noth- 
ing of my wicked life. To-morrow I shall be gone. 
They will try to keep her here. For God's sake, 
take her away as soon as I am dead ! Call her back 
now, and I will tell her all." I called her, and the 
dying sister rehearsed the story of her shame. The 
poor girl wept bitterly, and promised to leave 
with me immediately after the funeral. 

The next day I performed the obsequies, and 



i 5 6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ordered the carnage to wait for me at the door. 
The service over, I said to the girl : " The carriage 
is ready, and I have found you a suitable boarding- 
house till your friends can come for you. Pale as 
a corpse, she trembled violently. I saw her glance 
into the next room. There stood the mistress of 
the place, half hidden by a curtain, shaking her 
fore ringer and scowling frightfully. Seeing that 
there was no time to be lost, I took the hesitating 
victim by the hand, saying : " Come, let us away at 
once!" She drew back, and her whole manner 
changed. " I will not go ! " she said. " These are 
my best friends! All this they gave me this morn- 
ing ! " Here she thrust her hand into her pocket, 
and brought up at least a dozen gold eagles. 
" And is that the price," said I, " for which you have 
sold your soul?" I saw her glance again toward 
the curtain. There still stood the woman, beckon- 
ing now, with an unmistakable wink of approval 
and smile of triumph. " I am not ungrateful for your 
kindness," added the infatuated girl; " but I will 
not go ! " and, with a quick retreat, she disappeared 
behind the curtain that hung for her between 
Heaven and Hell. 

Nothing ever wrought more powerfully upon my 
feelings than this fatal failure. I wept and prayed 
over the memory in despair. An appeal to the 
police would avail nothing. The victim could not 
be taken away against her will. I had done my best 
and Satan had prevailed. 

A month later I was summoned to another death- 
bed in that house. "Who sent for you?" ex- 



YELLOW FEVER. 



157 



claimed the dying girl. " It is too late now ! Do 
not pray for me ! I chose for myself. I am going 
to my sister. Oh, that handful of gold ! that hand- 
ful of gold ! I prayed for her and remained with 
her. In less than an hour she died, with despera- 
tion imprinted on her clay. The wretched inmates 
thronged the room. I spoke to them tenderly. I 
told them the story of the deceased. If ever I 
faithfully warned the guilty, I did it then ; and 
around that death-bed was raised a wail such as I 
never heard in the house of mourning. 

Now came a letter from Dr. Bascom, with a call 
to the chair of English Literature in Transylvania 
University. It was necessary that I should go at 
once to Kentucky. I hastened to my family, made 
some further provision for their comfort, and imme- 
diately took my departure. Leila was very happy. 
" I rejoice to let you go," she said. " My highest 
ambition for you is satisfied." 

On the seventh day of September, 1847, I boarded 
the Wing-and-VVing. We were soon steaming away 
up the river. At seven in the evening I was seized 
with a sudden chill. I understood the premonition, 
called a boy to my assistance, ordered a hot mustard 
bath in my stateroom. Promptly he prepared it 
and helped me to undress. I gave him a five-dollar 
gold piece, and he promised faithful attendance. 
The bath over, he laid me in bed, and took away 
the tub. That was the last I saw of him, the last I 
saw of any one. * * * 

The rustling of a paper roused me. I saw an open 
sheet of foolscap gliding in under the door. I 



158 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



wondered whether I had not slept too long. I tried 
to raise my head, but could not. I attempted to 
turn over, but had no strength. Dim recollections 
of a boy and a bath occurred. I called for Jackson, 
but heard not my own voice. Again I lost myself. 
* * * Again I heard the rustling of the paper. It 
was withdrawn and replaced. Once more all van- 
ished in a confused dream. * * * 

A voice startled me. I had heard it before. A 
familiar face bent over me. How beautiful it was ! 
I gazed and was sure. Had an angel come ? Yes ! 
one who could be touched with a feeling of my in- 
firmities. I saw that he did not recognize me. 
"You do not know me, Bishop ?" I inquired. "O 
my brother ! my brother! " he exclaimed, while big 
tears shot from his eyes ; "is this you ? can this be 
you ? " 

My angel was Bishop Paine. He instantly ap- 
plied himself to my relief. He bathed my face and 
hands, changed everything about me, soothed my 
nervous excitement, gave me perhaps an anodyne. 
I slept, and was refreshed. When I awoke, the 
evening lamps were lighted. " How long have you 
been ill ? " asked the Bishop. " I was well at five 
o'clock yesterday, when we left New Orleans," was 
my answer. " Poor fellow !" he rejoined; " you 
left New Orleans Wednesday, and this is Monday 
night ! " 

The usual stage of nervous exhilaration had 
come, and I began to preach and sing. " Come) 
now," said the Bishop, "you must not do that. 
You shall have plenty of preaching to do in Ken- 



YELLOW FEVER. 



159 



tucky. I want to talk with you. But for the pres- 
ent you ought to sleep." He gave me something 
from a spoon, and again I slept. Often during the 
night I awoke, and found the Bishop always sitting 
beside me, sometimes with a book in his hand, 
sometimes with his hand upon my head. Tuesday 
morning found me calm and free from pain, but 
very weak. " Courage, my brother ! " said the 
Bishop ; " the crisis is past ; the fever is gone ; I 
shall hear you -preach at the Kentucky conference ! " 

The river was low, and our progress had been 
more slow than sure. Twice we had stuck upon a 
sand-bar, and each time been detained some hours. 
At Cairo we were obliged to change boats. The 
Bishop bore me ashore in his arms. He was the 
best of nurses. No brother could have been more 
constant, no mother more tender. Having waited 
three days, a boat came from St. Louis, bound 
for Cincinnati. She took us on board and landed 
us at Louisville. There we had a refreshing rest, 
and thence went on to Harrodsburg. This was the 
Bishop's destination, where he was to preside at the 
Kentucky conference. My journey had consumed 
twenty-one days. No railway then in the Missis- 
sippi valley. Here I met Dr. Bascom, and several 
of the faculty. The conference lasted a week, the 
fourth since I left New Orleans. Before its close, 
being earnestly solicited, I was able to preach, but 
not with my normal vigor. "Did I not tell you 
so?" said the Bishop as we left the church. Now, 
for the first time, he related the-whole story of his 
adventure : 



i6o 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



He had left Aberdeen the day I left New 
Orleans. Sunday he spent in Memphis. At ten 
that night he boarded the Wing-and-Wing. It was 
thronged with passengers. He expected to find 
yellow fever among them. The clerk told him 
there was not a single case. Till midnight he sat 
reading in the cabin. Then he saw the clerk unlock 
a state-room, thrust in a spoon and withdraw 
quickly, relocking the door. He followed the clerk 
to the office and asked him if there was some one ill 
in No. 28. Yes, he replied, a Catholic priest. Had 
he yellow fever? No mistake about that — would 
die too. But could nothing be done for him ? Well 
— no doctor aboard — had done all he could — spoon- 
ful of calomel every night. But did none of the 
passengers know of the case ? Not much — must 
not know — all go ashore next landing. Did not the 
captain know? Captain wouldn't like to know — 
clerk wouldn't like to have him know. " But some- 
thing ought to be done for the poor fellow," said 
the Bishop : " I have been much with yellow fever ; 
if you will give me access to him, I may be of some 
service, and shall be glad to help you." The clerk 
angrily replied : " I know my duty, sir ! if the pas- 
sengers will attend to their own affairs, I will attend 
to mine ! " 

Thus repulsed, the Bishop saw the necessity of a 
little strategy. He ascended to the hurricane deck, 
found the captain sitting in the pilot house, intro- 
duced himself, told a pathetic story of a poor fellow 
he once found on a Mississippi steamer dying of 
yellow fever, and the captain knew nothing of the 



YELLOW LEVER. 



161 



case, and the clerk concealed the facts from the pas- 
sengers, and the unconscious victim must have 
perished from sheer neglect if the Bishop had not 
accidentally made the discovery. As he paused the 
captain uttered an exclamation of indignant surprise. 
The Bishop replied : " Captain, these facts have 
occurred on this boat, and I thought you ought to 
know them." He proceeded, and told the whole 
story. " Come with me to the office," said the cap- 
tain. They went together. The captain demanded 
the key to 28, and handed it to the Bishop, saying : 
** Do what you please, sir ! and I will see that you 
are furnished with all you need ! " It was now well 
on toward morning. As soon as the day dawned, 
the Bishop shoved a sheet of paper covered with 
chloride of lime under the door, renewed it in half 
an hour, and half an hour later unlocked the door 
and entered. There lay the " Catholic priest," his 
face like a piece of wrinkled sole leather, his voice 
the only means of recognition. 

The reader knows the rest. The captain severely 
rebuked the clerk. The passengers were angry 
enough to have thrown him into the river, while 
their commendations of the Bishop knew no bound. 
" Don't be hard on him," said the latter; "he 
thought he was doing his duty, and I have only 
done mine." The story afterward appeared in 
print, and I think it was written by the Bishop. 
When I met him at the South Carolina conference 
some years later, he threw his arms around me, ex- 
claiming : "Ah, my dear brother! how often in 
these years have I thanked the good Providence 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



that brought me to the Wing-and-Wing! It was a 
hard conflict, but we triumphed, or you had not 
been here today ! " 

XXXV. TRANSYLVANIA UNIVERSITY. 

From Harrodsburg, in company with Dr. Bas- 
com, I proceeded to Lexington, the scene of my 
future labors. Here I found a letter from Leila, 
written four days after my departure, now more 
than a month old. " We are all well," she wrote. 
" Leila Thalia is as beautiful as an angel. How 
heartily I thank my God for this last blessing of his 
love. Felicia Hemans seems a fairy, singing con- 
tinually — a psyche, from morn to eve fluttering 
among the flowers. The woods are white with bay 
and magnolia, and the air is heavy with their fra- 
grance. Now a shower of diamonds comes dancing 
through the sunshine ; and then the little cloud, 
trailing its rainbow, floats away to the eastward. 
My heart is as buoyant as the breeze ; and if tears 
come, as sometimes they do, as quickly as a child I 
laugh them away. If Covington was not the orig- 
inal Paradise, it contains more of its elements than 
any other place I ever found. Concerning you I 
am satisfied ; it is the realization of my highest 
ambition. I have no fears — scarcely an anxiety. 
Three cases of yellow fever are reported ; but they 
came over from New Orleans. These good people 
are full of kindness and sympathy. God is better 
than all. Don't be troubled about us ; there is no 
danger. I shall write often, and pray for you daily." 



TRANSYLVANIA UNIVERSITY. 



With a cheerful spirit I began my work, and 
found my new relations comfortable. Logic, Rhet- 
oric, History, Criticism, with Mental and Moral 
Science, were the several subjects allotted to my 
chair. The students, I believe, numbered over 
three hundred. The faculty were benevolent and 
brotherly, ready to do all they could to make pleas- 
ant the path of their youngest member. It was a 
standing arrangement that I should spend every 
Wednesday evening with Dr. Bascom, and our 
fellowship then and there was free from all re- 
straints of formality. Strangers often deemed the 
great man cold and reserved ; but his friends always 
found in him a warm and noble heart. Dr. Kav- 
anaugh, subsequently Bishop, was pastor of the 
church ; but his health was poor and precarious, 
and I was expected to preach once a Sunday. 

Thus occupied, the time passed pleasantly, but 
there was no letter from Leila. I attributed the 
failure to the extreme low water, and the conse- 
quent tardiness of the mails. At length came two 
at once; one mailed Sept. 12 — the very day that 
Bishop Paine had found me in my stateroom ; the 
other, Sept. 26 — just a fortnight later. I opened 
the former and read: 

" O My Dear C! I am living in a tomb ! The 
dear little poetess lies dead before me ! She died 
yesterday of yellow fever. Was ill only eight hours. 
How is my paradise blighted at a stroke ! They are 
preparing for the burial. If you were with me, I could 
bear it better. But you are where you ought to be. 
Remain with your duties. Don't be cast down ! 



164 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



God will help you. Since your dreadful iliness last 
fall, I can never murmur at his providence — I can 
never doubt his love. Though he slay me, yet will 
I trust in him ! " etc. 

Dr. Bascom came in, threw his arms about me, 
and wept brotherly tears upon my shoulder. Feli- 
cia had loved him with no ordinary love. I never 
knew her attach herself to any one as she did to 
him. When he returned to us in New Orleans, 
after an absence of some weeks in Alabama, she 
saw him coming, and flew across the street into his 
arms. No child, he said, had ever showed him such 
affection. I could not weep alone, and his sym- 
pathy was a great solace to my bleeding heart. 
** Not my will, but thine be done ! " was the first 
prayer I could utter ; and I thank God that, with- 
out any reserve, I could repeat it every day. 

I opened the other letter, and read : " I have 
been very ill, but am now convalescent. Every- 
thing is done for us that Christian love can do. 
This is a community of good angels. But for that 
grave, I should think myself still in Paradise. My 
cup runs over with blessing! The little one is very 
well. Don't be troubled about us. Only come be- 
fore Christmas. God will not forsake his own. 
Look we higher than the grave! Christ is alive. 
Death is conquered. The air swarms with angels. 
Their silver trumpets wake me in the morning, and 
their golden lutes lull me to sleep at night ! Take 
heart, my dear C, and be strong ! " 

This was excellent preaching. No other could 
have done me so much good. With faith and 



TRANSYLVANIA UNIVERSITY. 



courage I girded up my loins and went forward. 
Pleasant occupation and the sympathy of many 
friends combined with Divine grace and the hope 
of immortality to make the worst endurable and 
lighten the heavy burden of the heart. Like Bun- 
yan's pilgrim, I had met Apollyon in the valley, 
and our swords struck fire in the shadow of death. 
Through Him who had loved me, consciously more 
than conqueror, I went on singing toward the Celes- 
tial City. 

Letters from Louisiana were now frequent, and 
all bright and sparkling as phosphorescent sea-foam. 
" Leila Thalia," wrote the mother, " is to me as a 
rosebud from Eden. Felicia's grave has opened 
into a gold mine. In the gloomy vale I have found 
a bed of rubies. Is it not good to walk in the 
shadows, hand in hand with the Shepherd, and 
know that he is leading us to eternal light ? Were 
there no night, we should never see the stars. Win- 
ter is the nurse of spring. The dead flower con- 
tains another life. My tears have become my 
crown jewels. My Father's rod has been better 
than his kiss. Shall I not praise Him while he 
lends me breath?" 

Three months had elapsed. The Christmas holi- 
day was approaching. By two weeks I anticipated 
it, and went to bring the dear ones to Kentucky. 
What holy tenderness was in our meeting! " O 
my dear C," said Leila, " how long I have watched 
and waited ! I have lain here counting the figures 
upon the wall-paper. Every one was an hour be- 
tween us. But you are come, and I am happy." 



DAYS OF MY Y EARS. 



Pointing to a couch in the corner, she added : 
" There died our dear Felicia. What a sweet com- 
panion she was to me ! She comes back every 
night, and sings so sweetly ! That picture is a good 
one, but there is a better in my heart. Her grave 
I have not seen. You must not see it. I want you 
to be strong and brave. Let us think of her only 
as alive among the immortal." 

She was much weaker than I had expected to 
find her. We bore her with her babe to the 
steamer. Friends came, and bade us a tender fare- 
well. Too surely they knew they would never see 
the lovely invalid again. A good nurse accom- 
panied us. Everything possible was done for the 
dear one's ease and comfort. How calm she was! 
how angel-like in look, in word, in manner! Before 
we reached Louisville, Leila Thalia drooped and 
died. I procured a little casket, put the jewel into 
it, bore it with us to Lexington, and there com- 
mitted it to the guardianship of the resurrection- 
angel in the treasure-chamber of the King. The 
mother remained tranquil, radiant as with the smile 
of God. " It is well," she said, " and I shall soon 
be with her." On Christmas eve, she prepared 
some little tokens for distant friends ; and at eleven 
that night, with a peace not of earth, she rendered 
up her beautiful spirit — a Christmas gift to God. 
O my Savior ! how could I have borne all this with- 
out the assurance of thy love ! 

At the funeral Dr. Bascom preached that marvel- 
ous sermon of his on HEAVEN. How like a 
prophet's message it thrilled and nerved my soul ! 



TRANSYLVANIA UNIVERSITY. 



I6 7 



It seemed a panorama rolled out by a mighty angel. 
The next day I went with the nurse to Louisville, 
and sent her back to New Orleans. John Newland 
Maffit was in the city, preaching like a seraph. At 
nine o'clock Sunday morning, I sought him at his 
lodgings. The servant carried my card to his 
room. I heard him exclaim : " Professor Cross, of 
Transylvania University! God bless his soul! I 
have been waiting for him a hundred years ! Bring 
him right up ! " I found him still in bed, his head 
wrapped in many napkins. But in five minutes he 
was up and well, and his silver tongue flowing with 
Hibernian honey. 

I remained with him, accompanied him to church, 
sat behind him in the pulpit, and bore some part 
in the service. He preached a characteristic sermon 
on Zeal — describing the true and the false. 
There were flashes of sheet-lightning in it, and 
trumpet-blasts from Sinai. Speaking of formal and 
superficial Christians, with their " heartless tones, 
and painted flames, and unbelieving faith," he 
turned aside with a gesture of superb scorn, saying : 
" Pass by, if you please ; I care not to be introduced 
to them." That single touch was worth my trip to 
Louisville. He drew a graphic picture of some 
good old faithful people, who " carried more than 
half of heaven in their countenances, and the whole 
of it in their characters ; " in whose presence " mirth 
and frivolity went dumb, and irreverence became 
devotion ; " and suddenly turning round to me, his 
eyes protruding and flashing, he exclaimed : 
" Brother, it sanctifies my soul to think of them ! " 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



I preached in the afternoon, and heard him again 
in the evening. It was a most beautiful and im- 
pressive discourse on The WORTH OF THE SOUL. 
I tried to analyze his eloquence, and find the secret 
of his peculiar power. Suddenly recurred to my 
mind what my dear friend Dr. Castle had said of 
him years before. " If you ever hear Maffit " — 
were his words — " pay particular attention to the 
middle tones of his voice, especially in his declama- 
tory mood. You will discover something there, I 
think, you never met with elsewhere. There lies 
much of Maffit's power." And now I had it — that 
peculiar resonance — sweeter than any music I had 
ever heard — the boy in the barrel, speaking out of 
the bung-hole. It was his natural voice, fraught 
with an ineffable charm. But this was only one 
element, of which there were many more — a brilliant 
fancy, a faultless grace of manner, a pathos defying 
all counterfeits, a personal magnetism streaming 
forth like the effluence of the sun, disarming criti- 
cism and transfusing all hearts with a resistless sym- 
pathy. He was sui generis — as different from Bas- 
com, as Bascom from a rosebud. There was more 
thought in one of Bascom's paragraphs than in 
Maffit's whole sermon ; but Maffit touched his 
hearers at a hundred points where Bascom could not 
reach them. Maffit charmed ; Bascom thundered. 
Maffit came in and sat down in our hearts ; Bascom 
brought all his battering-rams to bear upon our gates. 
Maffit drew Heaven down to us, and diffused it 
over his audience ; Bascom bore us up to Heaven, 
and blinded us with the splendors of his apocalypse. 



TRANSYLVANIA UNIVERSITY. 



169 



After the sermon, the preacher walked down the 
pulpit stairs singing, with that aeolian voice of his, 
the song which so many thousands had heard him 
sing during the last thirty years — " There are angels 
hovering round ! " If his speech had moved the peo- 
ple, his music melted them. A throng came for- 
ward for prayers. At ten o'clock the devotions 
ceased. I accompanied Maffit to his lodgings. He 
said he wanted talk more than sleep. We sat till 
four in the morning. With the simplicity of a little 
child, he told me the story of his troubles. I know 
not how many times he choked with tears, or sobbed 
aloud. Then he paced the room, smote his forehead, 
pressed both hands upon his heart and said it 
was breaking. At eight in the morning, I found 
him buried in a dozen layers of blanket, and his 
head swathed in half as many wet towels. He 
pulled me down to his face and kissed me, with a 
tender benediction. All that I ever saw of him 
afterward was a ruptured heart preserved in spirits 
in the window of a Mobile apothecary. 

During the winter there was a great awakening 
among the young men at the University, a number 
of whom afterward gave themselves to the work of 
the ministry. My labor was less a duty than a joy. 
My weekly evening with Dr. Bascom was an intel- 
lectual feast. Prof. Capers was my constant com- 
panion, Barker overflowed with refreshing sym- 
pathy, and Dodd kept all in good tone by his 
mathematical mirth. But these genial relations 
were not long to last. The financial affairs of the 
institution were seriously embarrassed. Before we 



I/O 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



were fully aware of the danger, the crisis came — the 
foreclosure of a mortgage, which left no daylight 
beyond it. At the end of the year, Dr. Bascom, 
with the entire faculty, resigned ; the trustees sur- 
rendered their charter, and Transylvania University 
was no more. 

XXXVI. DANVILLE. 

In this pleasant village the next conference 
assigned me pastoral work. I began with an 
elaborate series of sermons on the Apostles' Creed. 
Speaking of the chronological Messianic prophesies, 
I said — " These mile-stones and finger-posts lined 
the way from Sinai to Calvary." One of my class- 
leaders, who was a school-teacher, and about the 
most intelligent man I had in my charge, asked me 
how I knew that those mile-stones and finger posts 
were there, said he had never heard of them, and 
did not know that there was any established high- 
way through that country. This convinced me that 
I was preaching over the people's heads, and led to 
a simplification of my style. 

My dear departed Leila had been a genial and 
joyous spirit, full of fancy and of poetry. Her two 
years with me had been a continuous song in the 
night, and I had lost sight of her only in the dawn 
of an immortal day. From her childhood, she had 
lived in literature ; and abundant material was left, 
in the form of letters, essays, poems, diary, etc., for 
a suitable memorial. Her writings sparkled with 
wit, and flashed with rare conceptions. As a word- 



DANVILLE. 



171 



painter, I know not who surpassed her. A meta- 
phor contained a history; an allusion unfolded a 
landscape ; a short paragraph hung all heaven with 
rainbows. Her life must be written, and a selection 
made from her papers. It was a brief labor of love. 
What tender and holy memories awoke within me, 
as I traced her brightening path to the gate of 
Paradise ! The volume was issued by the Metho- 
dist Publishing House in Nashville, under the title 
of Portraiture and Pencillings of L. A. L. 
Cross, by Her Husband. 

A friend in St. Louis — the Rev. John H. Linn, 
D. D. — invited me to come and spend a few weeks 
with him. Having a little leisure, I knew not what 
better use I could make of my time. I had been 
in St. Louis, and made some interesting acquaint- 
ances there. Who does not know that a first-class 
Mississippi steamer at that day furnished the best 
table in the world? During Saturday night I 
reached the city. Early Sunday morning, Linn 
appeared on the wharf with a carriage. "Cross," 
said he, " I was afraid you were becoming melan- 
choly, and thought we could cheer you up a little. 
You are to preach three times to-day, address a 
temperance meeting to-morrow night, a missionary 
meeting Tuesday night, a literary society Wednes- 
day night, and after that according to circumstances. 
Such a rest will be good for you, and you must 
remain at least a month. Your old friends are on 
high heels to see you, and my butcher has sent the 
best steak for your breakfast I ever had in my 
house." " The rest is rather formidable," I an- 



172 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



swered ; " and as for the steak, I have fared so 
sumptuously on this boat, that I feel as if I should 
hardly want anything more for a week." 

In half an hour, we were at the table. I had 
much to tell, which all seemed eager to hear. Be- 
fore I was aware, the rest had finished, and were 
waiting for me. At once I dropped my fork, and 
sat erect in my chair. In Linn's eye I saw the 
gleam of mirth. In the quietest manner possible 
he observed : " Cross, I am glad you ate so much 
on that steamboat, else you would have eaten 
me out of house and home before the month is 
over!" 

After breakfast, I retired to the library to prepare 
for the duties of the. day. The minister for whom 
I was to preach in the afternoon called and inquired 
for me, and I heard mine host reply : 4< He is not to 
be disturbed, sir. He is up stairs, blotting out 
likewise and putting in also." 

For a whole month perpetually spouted these 
genial jeu d'esprits; while I strenuously enjoyed 
the " rest " my friend had so generously laid out for 
me ; preaching thrice a Sunday, and almost every 
day making some public address. It is to be hoped 
the people enjoyed it all ; certainly it had the best 
possible effect upon my own health and spirits. 
Linn was a devout man, of an essentially funny 
type. In an atmosphere of mingled mirth and 
prayer, he lived, moved, and had his being. His 
humor was the natural overflow of a loving and 
joyous heart, as pure as it was sparkling, and as 
harmless as it was contagious. The cheerful spirit 



DANVILLE. 



173 



which irradiated his life stamped his pale features 
with a smile in death. 

What Struve, Maedler, Secchi and others had 
written concerning the new hypothesis of the 
central sun of the whole stratum of stars known to 
us, as located in Alcyone of the Plaeiades, gave me 
a new interest in astronomy, and I went earnestly 
into the systematic study of that sublime science. 
Frequently at night I repaired to the garden, with 
book and chart, for communion with the constella- 
tions ; and the darkies wondered much at "de 
professor what want a candle for see de stars 
wid!" 

I had married. Mrs. Jane Tandy Hardin, of Har- 
rodsburg. She was a good French and Spanish 
scholar. To the French I had already paid some 
attention ; but now I took hold of it with new 
vigor, joined Spanish with it, and prosecuted both 
till I could read them as readily as the English. 

Cholera came, and wrought frightful havoc in 
the community. Some were seized suddenly, and 
dead in two or three hours. Captain Davis of 
Harrodsburg was not far wrong when, being asked 
what was the first symptom of cholera, he replied 
— " Death, sir ! " A young man whom I visited 
said — " I wish I had done as you advised me, but 
it is too late now ! " and in half an hour was gone. 
A girl of about sixteen years kept exclaiming as 
long as she could articulate — " Oh, the deathbed of 
a sinner! Oh, the deathbed of a sinner! " 

Father Robinson was about eighty years old. I 
had heard him speak of a time when death came 



174 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



and looked him in the face, and he looked death in 
the face. Now he was prostrated, and I knew it 
was the last time. "Yes," said he, " death is 
looking me in the face again, and again I am look- 
ing him in the face. He is only a shadow, and my 
Savior stands behind him. I shall walk right 
through the shadow into my Savior's arms! " The 
next morning, the good old man was not there ; 
a bloated corpse lay in his place. He had seen 
many sorrows, and passed through sore discipline. 
Among his papers I found some scanty records in 
the form of a religious diary ; and on one of the 
pages, copied out in the fair round hand for which 
as an old man he was remarkable, these lines : 

" Count o'er the joys that thou hast seen ; 
Count o'er thy hours from anguish free ; 
And know, whatever thou hast been, 
'Twere something better not to be ! " 

XXXVII. MAYSVILLE. 

FROM Danville to Maysville, in the autumn of 
1849, was no unwelcome change. The town was 
larger and livelier. The society was more culti- 
vated and congenial. The situation, on the Ohio 
River, walled in with lofty hills, was highly pictur- 
esque and poetic. The world of commerce, travel 
and adventure, perpetually floating by, made me 
feel that I still belonged to the solar system. With 
chart and candle, I walked again the stellar uni- 
verse, and peered into some of the nearest nebulae. 
In these celestial excursions, my domestic tutor in 



MAYSVILLE. 



Spanish accompanied me, and shared my utmost 
enthusiasm. Together we traced the history of the 
Moors in Spain, and revelled amidst the delights of 
Saragossa and the Alhambra ! Her familiarity 
with the French was a special stimulus to my stud- 
ies in that language. We read Madame De Stael 
and Lamartine together, and translated Chataubri- 
and's Rene into English. I procured Bossuet's 
Sermons and Funeral Orations, with the entire 
works of Bourdaloue. These afforded us excellent 
entertainment during the winter months, and some 
of them we clothed with a decent English dress. 
Ordinary novels we religiously eschewed ; but 
everything of Richter and Goethe, that had been 
rendered into our vernacular, we read with avidity, 
and tried to put much of it into French. I know 
not what could have been more quickening to the 
mental powers than these processes with The 
Titans, Hesperus and Lavena; or better 
adapted to their discipline than the same sort of 
dealing with WlLHELM Meister and the SOR- 
ROWS of Werter. So thorough, indeed, was 
"Jeanie's intellectual culture, and so pure her taste, 
that she was the greatest possible help to me in all 
my literary labors, and neither of us ever attempted 
anything without the aid of the other. Who, in a 
thousand years, has been better able than the 
author and subject of this volume to attest the 
royal statement: " He that findeth a wife flndeth a 
good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord ? " 

In many other ways, this Maysville year was 
fruitful. We were burned out, and the rats like a 



176 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



retreating army ran over the roof. We had a re- 
vival, and many were converted, and the church 
was much enlarged. I attended a camp-meeting, 
preached three times, and slept with a moccasin 
snake. At Science Hill, Jeanie's alma mater, I de- 
livered a commencement address, which was 
deemed worth printing. Alexander Campbell 
came, and proclaimed to us the new dispensation of 
baptismal grace. Professor Allen returned from 
the California placers with plethoric pockets, to 
procure machinery with which he would thresh the 
Sierra Nevada into gold-dust. Wm. M. Prottsman, 
having charmed a large audience with an extraor- 
dinary harangue on Temperance, helped us dissect 
an antique hen, to which he addressed an ingenious 
travesty on the well known Lines To a Mummy, 
thus auspiciously beginning: 

" And thou hast walked about — how strange a story ! 
In Mason's * fields a hundred years ago : 
When Daniel Boone was here in all his glory, 
Hunting the turkey, deer and buffalo." 

In St. Louis, on the first of May, 1850, opened 
the second general conference of the Methodist 
Episcopal Church South. I had been solicited to 
report the proceedings. Alone in the work, I 
found it arduous and exhausting. Besides the ac- 
tion of the body, I took down most of the impor- 
tant speeches, some of them in full. Then I must 
needs write out my notes for the printer, and re- 
vise the final proofs. This left me hardly time to 



Maysville is in Mason county. 



MAYSVILLE. 



eat, not half enough to sleep. During the session, 
I preached four sermons — one of them in Dr. 
Eliott's pulpit — Unitarian. Next day he sent me 
a complete set of Dr. Channing's works ; which I 
valued less for their theology, than for their high 
moral tone, beautiful English, and faultless rhetoric 
— qualities in which no American writer ever ex- 
celled William Ellery Channing. 

On my return to Maysville, I paused to spend a 
Sunday in Cincinnati. My chief motive was a de- 
sire to hear Thomas H. Stockton. He was just 
now at the flood-tide with his beautiful dream of 
"acommon Christian Creed, a Common Christian 
Church, a Common Christian School, a Common 
Christian Press, a Common Christian Pulpit, a Com- 
mon Christian Library," etc. How divinely he 
preached that day ! What a noble voice ! what a 
charming manner! what a sweet spirit of humility ! 
what an inspiration of Pauline charity ! what in- 
tense devotion to the highest aim of the Christian 
ministry ! One sentence I shall never forget : " The 
transfer of knowledge to the mind is like the effort 
of the painter, from day to day, with careful study 
and patient labor, here a little and there a little, 
laying on shade after shade, till the beautiful pro- 
duction stands forth at length, in feature and ex- 
pression, a faultless copy of the original ; the trans- 
fer of righteousness to the soul is like turning a 
mirror to the sun, which, the moment it catches his 
beams, glows like him ! " For fine touches like this, 
Stockton was not surpassed even by Summerfield ; 
while his allegories were equal to Cookman's, and 



i;8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



more elegant than Father Taylor's. His thought 
was copious, his fancy imperial, his language always 
appropriate, and his action dignified and impressive. 
What a pity, that such powers should be wasted on 
impracticable theories, and go out at last in lunacy ! 

On reaching Maysville, I received a letter from 
Maffit, written in Mobile, ending with his usual 
formula — "Yours in the love of Jesus." It was the 
last he ever wrote. He had gone to that city, he 
said, and " sat down to play the batteries of God 
upon the gilded domes of sin." Before he was 
aware, a hundred copies of the New York Police 
Gazettes containing a satanic assault upon him, had 
been distributed through the city. Immediately he 
withdrew to a friend's house, just without the cor- 
poration. Often during the night he paced the 
room, pressing his hands upon his heart, and ex- 
claiming : "Oh, it is breaking! it is breaking!" 
Then he would fall upon his knees, imploring par- 
don for his persecutors. Of the cruel allegations 
against him, he vehemently protested his innocence. 
"I perish by a blast from hell," said he, "but I 
die a Christian and a gentleman." Before another 
day-dawn, he had spent his last breath in prayer for 
his enemies. An autopsy disclosed the fact that 
the heart he pressed so often was actually ruptured. 
Doubtless the disease had been there for many 
years, but this agony precipitated the end. To my 
dear Jeanie, the stroke was terrible. Under Manit's 
ministry, in early life, she had been led to Christ. 
He had been much at her father's house. She thor- 
oughly believed him pure and good. Many infirmi- 



MAYSVILLE. 



1/9 



ties he had, but they were mingled with many 
excellences. Weak as an infant, he was strong as a 
giant. All over the land, thousands owned him the 
instrument of their salvation. Such a character, 
cold intellect can never comprehend. As Edward 
Irving wrote of David : " The hearts of a hundred 
men struggled and strove together within the nar- 
row continent of his single heart." The angels, of 
whom he sang so often, understood Maffit. Some of 
the charges brought against him were shamefully tri- 
vial, and others were damnably absurd. After all his 
errors and all his sufferings, his work is with the Lord, 
and his judgment is not passed over from his God. 

I found a new help in Hebrew, and again I was 
at home with Gesenius. The cholera came, and a 
wail went up from all our cemeteries. The banks 
of the Ohio River were a bristling battleground be- 
tween the two Methodisms, with mutual incursions 
and reprisals. A tender twain, divided by the 
flood, agreed to surrender to each other. I went 
twelve miles to consummate the compact. The 
scene is unforgettable. On a circle of benches ar- 
ranged under the trees, sat forty or fifty young men, 
each with a young woman upon his knees. Giving 
me a chair in the centre, the mellow old gentleman, 
who had already taken a little too much, brought 
his two daughters, and asked me to choose between 
them. With the plea of a wife at home, I courte- 
ously declined them both. The father assured me 
it was the neighborhood custom, and family rela- 
tions constituted no excuse. As the easiest way 
out of the difficulty, I hastened the ceremony, and 



i8o 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



married the hostile Methodisms. The feast which 
followed was such as I had never witnessed at a 
wedding, a genuine Kentucky barbacue. The fum- 
ing trenches were uncovered, and the ground gave 
up its roasted pigs, poultry, venison, and the whole 
half of an ox, with vegetables and pastries to match, 
and crowning the banquet a bridal cake almost as 
big as a cart-wheel. Not less than seventy slaves 
waited upon the guests. After all was over, we 
joined hands around the table, and made the forest 
ring with a joyous song of praise, and I went home 
fifty dollars better than I came. 

At the General Conference in May, Dr. Bascom, 
invested with episcopal functions, had entered upon 
a new career, too soon, alas! to close. It was now 
late in October. I heard of his illness in Louisville, 
and hastened to his side ; but arrived only in time 
to catch the gleam of the chariot that bore the 
prophet over the everlasting hills ! This again 
bowed my dear Jeanie to the dust. She retired to 
her chamber, and wept all day, refusing to be com- 
forted. "It is so much life gone out!" she ex- 
claimed ; " such a luminary quenched so suddenly! " 
Dr. Bascom had been for many years one of her 
dearest friends. To me also his departure made the 
world different. Amidst the gorgeous leaves of 
autumn, he fell in all his glory ! 

XXXVIII. NASHVILLE. 

MEMPHIS Methodism wished to commemorate the 
late Bishop Bascom, and I was invited to preach 



NASHVILLE. 



iSl 



the sermon. I remained two weeks in Memphis, 
and preached nine times. One day, driving about 
in a buggy, Miles Owen showed me an open lot 
consisting of eight acres, and said : " That belongs 
to my brother Frank and me, and we have agreed 
together that it shall be yours if you will come and 
be our minister." The property was valuable, 
located in what is now the very heart of the city. 
The church was large and prosperous, and there 
was good opportunity for successful work. But 
Bishop Capers, having just transferred me to the 
Tennessee conference, had already appointed me to 
McKendree church, Nashville. Should I urge the 
wish, he would doubtless make a change for my 
accommodation ; but the disarrangement of plan 
might seriously embarrass his work, and possibly 
produce dissatisfaction at Nashville. My duty 
seemed clear, and no consideration of worldly inter- 
est must interfere with its performance. A few 
years later, Frank Owen said tome: " Had you 
accepted our offer, you would have been worth a 
million and a half of dollars to-day ! " 

Nashville proved a delightful field of labor. 
Society was good. Methodism had the confidence 
of the community. One of our church papers was 
published here, and the office was the common ren- 
dezvous of our ministry. Our place of worship, one 
of the most capacious in the South, was always full. 
One of the names on our register was James K. Polk, 
but its owner was now at the White House. The 
new governor was inaugurated in McKendree 
church, and I officiated as chaplain on the occasion. 



182 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Henry Clay died and I improved the event in a ser- 
mon, emphasizing the fact that in his last days he 
turned his attention earnestly to religion, and show- 
ing that the greatest minds are unable to meet the 
last enemy with confidence unless aided by the 
Captain of our salvation. I had another season of 
refreshing fellowship with Summerfield, my faith 
and zeal were greatly quickened, and each of the 
two years gave us a large accession of regenerate 
souls. 

Jenny Lind came, and sang the people into Para- 
dise. Some tight-laced Methodist preachers, too 
ignorant to appreciate her divine art, denounced it 
as the work of the devil. Lest I should offend 
some weak brother for whom Christ died, I refrained 
from gratifying a strong desire to hear her, but 
could never afterward forgive the folly that dis- 
carded so rich a blessing. This feeling was intensi- 
fied at the next conference, when those who had 
heard her were arraigned and censured ; and then 
and there, I plainly declared to my brethren, that 
my regret for the neglect of the opportunity was 
only little less than my disgust at the stupidity 
which would have condemned me ! 

During our sojourn in Nashville, I began writing 
as NlMROD for the Southern Christian Advocate ; 
and when my identity was suspected, changed my 
nom de plume to PROTEUS. Jeanie wrote also, both 
in prose and verse, for that paper and others. Four 
neat little volumes of hers, entitled DRIFT-WOOD, 
Heart Blossoms, Bible Gleanings, and Way- 
side FLOWERETS, were soon after issued by the 



NASHVILLE. 



183 



Southern Methodist Publishing House. With a 
dear friend, Mrs. J. R. Plummer, Who was suspected 
of pulmonary consumption, she entered into a sol- 
emn compact, that the one who should die first, 
should, if possible, send a message to the other, 
describing her feelings at the final moment. Mrs. 
P. went to Florida, and never returned. The last 
words she ever uttered were : " Tell Sister Cross it 
is bliss to die ! " 

The suit of the South for its portion of church 
property occasioned endless discussion. The con- 
troversy was now at springtide, and " the border " 
was a scene of bitter conflict and reprisal. The sword 
of Justice pierced the heart of Charity, and Chris- 
tianity lost more than Southern Methodism gained. 
Perhaps we heard more of the matter in Nashville 
than in some other localities, as so many of our 
leading men were there, especially those personally 
concerned in the litigation. Among the fruits of it 
all, one typical incident was more ludicrous than 
serious. A brother from Boston, who had been 
several days among us, had heard enough on the 
subject to make him exceedingly cautious. While 
he was preaching for me on Sunday night, a new 
negro sexton accidentally turned off the gas, leaving 
us in total darkness ; and the preacher was terrified 
well-nigh out of his wits lest he should be mobbed 
for an abolitionist. Nashville was the last place in 
the South where such a thing could occur. 

I was invited to make the commencement oration 
at La Grange College. It was published as a 
pamphlet, with the title — PREPARATIVES OF ELO- 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



QUENCE. The Rev. P. P. Neely, D. D., addressed 
the Literary Societies. It was- one of the most felic- 
itous performances I ever heard on such an occa- 
sion — voice remarkably fine — manner graceful and 
dignified — wit and pathos blending like streams of 
milk and honey — profound philosophical thought lit 
up with gleams of fancy and poetic fire, eliciting 
peal on peal of applause for more than an hour. 
Dr. Neely was certainly a wonderful orator, playing 
upon the hearts of his hearers like a master musi- 
cian upon his instrument. 

The Rev. John B. McFerrin went with me to La 
Grange. I had prepared a petition, and procured 
many respectable signatures to it, addressed to the 
faculty and trustees of the college, asking them to 
make him Doctor of Divinity. He returned to 
Nashville well pleased with that title, bore the 
blushing honor meekly enough, and proved himself 
worthy of it by his wisdom. 

. In Nashville we had an eccentric city missionary 
— Elisha Carr. In intellectual furniture, he was a 
little below mediocrity ; but in devout habits and 
holy living, he was excelled by none. In a Sunday- 
school convention, I was appointed to draw up a 
form for opening and closing the school. I incor- 
porated in it the Lord's Prayer. Brother Carr pro- 
tested against it as "popish." He thought the 
Lord's Prayer was to be said only by the Presiding 
Elder in the administration of the Ploly Supper. 
He judged from what he had seen and heard of 
public worship in Tennessee. At that time one 
might visit all the country Methodist churches in 



NASHVILLE. 



the state, and never hear the Lord's Prayer, except 
at a quarterly meeting, when it was said by the 
Presiding Elder. 

But Brother Carr was a faithful missionary, who 
fasted often, prayed without ceasing, gave alms 
without grudging, visited the poor and the sick 
without tiring, and everywhere catechised the little 
darkies in his own inimitable way. In five minutes 
after he entered a house, he had all the young col- 
ored belongings drawn up in a semi-circle before his 
chair. " Who made you ? " Well answered by all 
in concert. " What did he make you for? " " Pick 
up chips," cries one. " Wait on white folks," re- 
sponds another. A few such theological errors cor- 
rected, a series of very practical questions succeeds : 
" Which of you boys the other day left the bars 
down, and let the sheep get into the wheat field ? " 
" Mus' be dat Joe," answers Zeke. " Now, Zeke," 
rejoins Joe, "you knows how you done do dat you- 
sef." " Yes," adds the catechist, "that was you, 
Zeke." Then follows a solemn homily on the ninth 
commandment, closing with the assurance of the 
fiery lake for the liar. Then the missionary resumes 
his questioning : " Which of you carried the mare 
to the pasture, and threw down the bridle by the 
gate, and the pigs came and chewed it up, all but 
the bit and the buckles?" " Dat me too," ex- 
claims Zeke ; " aint gwine fer let ole charcoal roas' 
dis chile fer lyin ! " In the same manner he finds 
out which girl ate up all mistress' preserves in the 
closet, and which burned up the baby's check apron 
in lighting the bedroom fire, administering such re- 



1 86 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



proof and counsel as the several cases call for. 
After the interview is over, Zeke is heard, out-door 
under the window, lecturing his fellow delinquents 
in this fashion : " Now, niggas, mine what I says. 
Us has fer look out. Dat man kin to God. He 
know all what we does. An' he blame it 'pon us to 
de jedgment. Now you take notice what I tells 
yeh. Cause ef you don't, devil gwine get some of 
yeh, shuah ! " 

Brother Carr spent a night at Dr. W.'s in Edge- 
field. Judge D. was there, with his wife. In the 
morning the Doctor handed the Testament to 
Brother Carr, saying in an undertone: " Better be 
short, or it may be irksome to the Judge." The 
good man read the Beatitudes at the beginning of 
the fifth chapter of St. Matthew, then knelt down 
and said : " O Lord, thou knowest our wants, and 
well it is thou dost, for we have not time to tell 
thee, because Judge D. is here, and perhaps he 
never prays, and a long prayer might be irksome to 
him. O Lord, have mercy upon us, and forgive us 
all our sins, and bless this house, and the Judge, 
and his wife, and me also, and save us all, for Jesus' 
sake. Amen." Rising from his knees, the Judge 
said : " Now, Mr. Carr, I beg that you will go over 
that again, and read the whole chapter, and pray as 
long as you please, and pray especially for me. 
God forbid that I should ever be a restraint to a 
good man's prayer ! " And Brother Carr gladly 
obeyed the order, and "had liberty" in his devo- 
tions. 



BLUE MEETING. 1 87 



XXXIX. BLUE MEETING. 

BETHEL was the mother-church of Methodism in 
Charleston. From the original color of the old 
building, it was often called "Blue Meeting," es- 
pecially by our " Brethren in Black." Our brethren 
in black were largely represented there, numbering 
over thirteen hundred, while the white membership 
scarcely reached four hundred. Transferred to the 
South Carolina conference in 1853, this was the first 
field assigned me, in which I spent two pleasant and 
fruitful years. 'Never anywhere had I met with so 
gratifying a reception. Arriving with my family 
about 3 p. m. we found forty representative persons 
of both sexes assembled to give us welcome. Din- 
ner was ready at the parsonage, an " elect lady " 
presided, and we all sat down together. The entire 
table-service was new. New carpets and furniture 
everywhere adorned the apartments. The store- 
room was abundantly supplied with provisions. At 
once we were as much at home as if we had lived 
there a century. It was southern hospitality sancti- 
fied. 

Among the score of colored people in attendance, 
a man was introduced to me whose name was 
Loundsbury. He was a free man, said to be worth 
some thirty thousand dollars, though his real estate 
was held for him, under the law, by a trustee, who 
was responsible to the court. He told me he was a 
butcher, having a stall in the market, to which I 
was to come for meat. I was not slow to accept 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the invitation; and Loundsbury's stall I found the 
best in the market. I made my purchase, and 
offered to pay ; but he answered : " Not now, if you 
please ; I'll keep the reckoning, and let you know 
when I want settlement." At the end of a week, I 
again offered him money ; which he again declined, 
saying: " If I have dealt honorably with you, you 
can afford to trust me for a month." The month 
ended, and I renewed my offer ; when he replied : 
" Have I not always given you the best I had? can't 
you trust me three months more?" At the close 
of that period, he said: "Now I think we ought 
to understand each other by this time ; the fact is, I 
get double pay every Sunday, and take more pleas- 
ure in furnishing you meat than you do in eating it ; 
so, if it's all the same to you, come to my stall as 
long as I come to Blue Meeting, and remember that 
I'm still in your debt." And during my two years 
at Bethel, I bought all my meat of Loundsbury, and 
never paid him a penny ! 

In all the four Methodist congregations of the 
city, special interest was taken in the religious cul- 
ture of the colored people. The system in use 
originated with Dr. Capers many years before. 
With special adaptations to plantation purposes, it 
prevailed among Methodists throughout the state. 
Nowhere else were the slaves so well instructed as in 
South Carolina. In Charleston white and black 
met together, and the Lord was the maker of them 
all. Masters below, and servants above, joined in 
the same worship and rejoiced in the same Savior. 

From the best of the colored men class-leaders 



BLUE MEETING. 



were chosen, who reported to the pastor the condi- 
tion of their classes every month. Regularly once 
a week the whole body of leaders met the minister 
in charge, and informed him of any who walked dis- 
orderly, and disregarded the godly admonitions of 
the leader. Such cases were carefully dealt with, to 
avert scandal and help the halting and the weary in 
the way. The rigid rules of discipline applied to 
white members could not well be applied to the 
black, and it was necessary to treat them as children 
rather than men. The catechisms prepared for old 
and young were constantly in use, and the leaders 
were required regularly to catechise their classes. 

We had no colored preachers, but the leaders 
conducted prayer meetings for the colored people. 
On such occasions the law required the presence of 
two or three white men, but the rule was not rigidly 
enforced. In the outset the leaders advised me 
that I should be " firm and substanch, and keep the 
hatches well down." Yet I found it no easy mat- 
ter to suppress all noisy ebullitions and extrava- 
gances ; and the poor things often feared they had 
committed the unpardonable sin by " squinching of 
the Sperit." 

On the first Sunday of the month I administered 
the Holy Communion to the white members, and on 
the second Sunday to the colored. On the Monday 
night following, the latter had their love-feast. 
This was always a joyful occasion, the church was 
crowded and all were anxious to speak. A mission- 
ary contribution at the close was the grand feature 
of the meeting. The contributors came up one 



190 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



aisle, deposited their offerings upon a table in front 
of the pulpit, and returned by another aisle to their 
seats. Everybody fell into the procession, every- 
body gave according to his ability, and frequently 
the sum amounted to eighty or a hundred dollars. 
The old church became too small ; we built a larger; 
and good old Dr. Bachman, the Lutheran minister, 
preached at its dedication. 

During my first year at Bethel, I was surprised by 
official information from the faculty of the Carolina 
University at Chapel Hill, that they had conferred 
upon me the degree of Doctor in Divinity. I after- 
ward learned that" this was done at the instance of 
Bishop Capers, seconded by the Rev. Drs. Wight- 
man, Summers, and Whiteford Smith. These were 
among the best friends I ever had, and their love 
was as lasting as life. They are all long since gone ; 
but in the fairer land of their rest, do they not 
sometimes think of their younger brother, left toil- 
ing after them through the wilderness? 

The yellow fever was in the city. I was fre- 
quently called out in the night to pray with the 
dying. One Saturday night, after ten o'clock, there 
was a ring at the door. The lamp was out in the 
hall, and I was preparing for bed. Responding to 
the summons, I found a young man standing out- 
side in the darkness, who told a touching tale of 
woe, and asked for five dollars only till Monday 
morning. He said he lived but four doors distant, 
and his name was John Hoak. I gave him the five 
dollars, and he departed. When I reported the case 
to Jeanie, she suggested that the last letter in his 



BLUE MEETING. 



191 



name might be x instead of k. After I had waited 
a week for the return of the loan, and visited the 
house designated without finding the person named, 
the suggestion became a conviction. 

The incident was almost forgotten, when a young 
man called, very humbly asking " a great favor." 
He was pale and apparently feeble — said he was 
hardly recovered from yellow fever — his father and 
mother had died of the epidemic — he wanted five 
dollars to carry him to some friends in Greenville, 
and would send it back in a week. After he had 
gone with the five, it struck me that there was 
something familiar in his voice, and I mentioned the 
fact to Jeanie. She replied that the young man, 
though he had called himself James Hurdle, was pos- 
sibly John Hoax — the initials were the same. In- 
stantly it flashed upon me ; the voices were identical, 
and the manner of pronouncing my name with a w 
for an r could not be mistaken. 

A year after this I visited New York. While 
registering my name at the office of the St. Nich- 
olas, a young man, addressing me as " Mistah 
Cwoss," began telling me that he had known me in 
Charleston — was out of business — wanted to return 
South — would be much obliged for the loan of five 
dollars. Here I interrupted him, saying: "John 
Hoax, I believe, and I was hoping you would offer 
me the ten dollars you borrowed a year ago! " In 
a flash he disappeared at the door, which I 
reached just in time to get a glimpse of his hori- 
zontal coat-tail turning the first corner! 

This was not our final interview. Eleven years 



192 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



later, in the same city, he crossed Twenty-third 
street to meet me, saluting me as " Doctah Cwoss," 
and soliciting " a loan of five dollars ; " and my last 
sight of him was the most satisfactory — a dissolving 
view up Sixth Avenue, with a six-foot policeman on 
his trail. 

In 1847, as tne reader may recollect, on the 
seventh day of September, at seven o'clock in the 
evening, I first had the yellow fever ; and now, in 
1854, seven years after, on the same day of the 
same month, and just at the same hour of the day, 
it came again. There seems something remarkable 
in this week of years and this concurrence of sevens, 
as if the saffron fiend had some regard for the per- 
fect number, or knew when the last corpuscle of the 
old system had given place to the new, or in the 
order of his movements recognized the supervision 
of superior intelligence and wisdom. Remaining in 
the extreme South, probably the recurrence had not 
happened ; but more than five years in Kentucky 
and Tennessee were enough to neutralize my accli- 
mation, and prepare the house for the returning 
demon. This time the visitation came very near be- 
ing fatal. I remember a season of fainting and diffi- 
cult breathing, when my physician said : " Doctor, I 
can do no more for you, but God can help us ; " 
and then, kneeling down, prayed earnestly for my re- 
covery. The report went out, indeed, that I was 
dead ; and it was published in many papers ; and a 
child born that night in Charleston was named 
Joseph Cross ; and six months later I encountered 
an old Nashville friend on Meeting Street, who 



TRINITY CHURCH. 



193 



threw up his hands exclaiming ; " Do I see a ghost, 
or one risen from the grave ! I heard that you were 
dead, and knew no better till this moment ! " 

XL. TRINITY CHURCH. 

Here, my third year in Charleston, I found a 
flock, black and white, twice as numerous as at 
Bethel. The church was large, and generally full. 
A great box, in which twenty men might preach at 
once, and almost as high as the gallery, served for a 
pulpit. Often charged with preaching over the 
heads of the people, I resolved that it should not 
be true now without a metaphor. So I demolished 
the old structure, and came down nearly to the 
level of my hearers. The first Sunday in my new 
pulpit, I preached on Ezra's pulpit in the eighth 
chapter of Nehemiah. If the reader dislikes homi- 
letics, he is at liberty to omit this extract : 

" Box up the lawyer as you do the preacher — 
Daniel Webster is reported to have said, or words 
to the same effect — and he would never win his 
cause. I have heard of an English Bishop preach- 
ing in what he called ' a marrow-bone/ just large 
enough for his Lordship and his lawn. This may 
do for a preacher who stands like a stick in a tub ; 
but some preachers want occasionally to make a 
gesture. The Jesuits are wiser in their generation, 
preaching from ample platforms, where they have 
abundant liberty. Why will you make pillar-saints 
of your preachers, or put them into coffins before 
you want to bury them ? Why cage up the messen- 



i 9 4 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ger of peace, as if he were a panther ; or stick the 
pulpit up against the end of the church, like a mud- 
wasp's nest against a rafter in a barn ? A child, 
pitying the agony of the reverend gesticulator in his 
pulpit, asked his mother — ' Why don't they let the 
man out of the box?' That question remains un- 
answered, and every child has a right to demand 
the reason why. Whatever is an inconvenience to 
the speaker, is an obstruction to the truth. In the 
plan of the pulpit, no doubt, the devil often has a 
hand ; and his policy is to put the preacher as far 
as possible from the people. Diogenes had the ad- 
vantage of us ; he could roll his tub wherever he 
went, but ours are made immovable. And some of 
them are so elevated that their occupants, like the 
frescoed figures on a ceiling, are best seen by lying 
on the back. When I was a child, I used to sit 
gazing up at the minister in his lofty pulpit, and 
wonder whether he went there to be nearer to God 
or farther from men. If you would sell a house or 
a horse to your neighbor, you do not talk to him 
from a balcony or window of the second story, but 
descend and meet him on the pavement. It is a 
well-known principle of acoustics, that sound as- 
cends, so that the village bell in the valley is heard 
much farther than another on the hill ; and this law 
has an augmented force in a crowded house, where 
the heated air rises, and carries with it the voice of 
the speaker. In a word, brethren, give your 
preacher room and freedom ; and treat him, not 
like a maniac, but like a man of God. We all 
hope for a better day ; let us hope for the day 



TRINITY CHURCH. 



195 



when pulpits shall be constructed on true ambono- 
logical principles." 

I appointed a season of special fasting and prayer, 
and began extra services in the church. It was 
Lent, but the Methodists did not know it. Three 
brethren came to my aid, a gracious influence was 
soon manifest, and the result was a large addition 
to our list of members. One of the converts was 
Ellison Capers, a son of the Bishop. He was a 
brilliant and attractive youth, largely endowed with 
the noble qualities of his father. Entering the 
ministry, he served a few years in the South Caro- 
lina conference, then took orders in the Episcopal 
Church. He is now a Doctor of Divinity ; much 
beloved as the Rector of Trinity parish, Columbia ; 
and, if I mistake not, has declined the offer of 
Episcopal honors. / 

The dear old Bishop died. Who in South Caro- 
lina was ever more loved and honored? What 
saint of the Christian calendar more worthy to wear 
the aureola? He had a beautiful face, radiant with 
the outbeaming soul. Always and everywhere, he 
was the perfect gentleman, and the irreproachable 
servant of Jesus Christ. His amiability never de- 
tracted from his energy, and in the work of the 
Lord he never wearied. No effort was too arduous, 
no sacrifice too costly, by which he could glorify 
Christ, or aid the salvation of' a soul. No other 
man in the South ever did so much for the negro as 
Dr. William Capers. His social characteristics and 
his devotional habits were equally remarkable- I 
once heard him say that, having committed himself 



196 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



to God for the night, he never took back the con- 
signment, and so never lost a moment's sleep from 
worldly care or anxiety. As he lived, so he died 
humbly trusting in his Redeemer. " Everything 
has failed me but my religion," said he, ''here I 
hold fast forever." Full of tears, I preached a 
memorial sermon in Trinity Church, which was pub- 
lished as a pamphlet. 

Charleston was a musical city, a rendezvous for 
the highest musical talent and culture. The Phil- 
harmonic Society gave us, once a month through 
the winter, the best oratorios. One of these con- 
tained a number of long passages to be read with 
instrumental accompaniments. The German Con- 
ductor called on me to render this service. I told 
him I had never done anything of the sort, and 
knew too little of music to do it well. He said it 
was easy, he would rehearse the part with me, was 
sure I would not fail, and he " must have one divine 
gentleman to do it." How I succeeded I never 
knew, for no one ever expressed in my hearing any 
estimate of the performance ; and from that very 
fact, together with my own conscious inability, I 
conclude it must have been a failure. 

We had also three courses of lectures, all well at- 
tended, instructive and eloquent, but of very differ- 
ent characters. The lecturers were Milburn, Thack- 
eray, and Dr. Orville Dewey. The last mentioned 
was anxious to witness one of our colored people's 
love feasts, and I gave him a seat by my side. 
There were not less than twelve hundred negroes 
present, and much of the time eight or ten were on 



TRINITY CHURCH. 



I 9 7 



their feet at once, waiting for an opportunity to 
speak. I observed that the Doctor had frequent 
use for his white handkerchief , but when the vast 
assembly joined with one voice in the song — 

" O, did you eber hear tell ob de golden crown ? 
You shall wear de golden crown dat day ! " 

his emotions got the mastery of him, and the good 
man wept amain. Among half a dozen waiting for 
their turn, I saw old Rinah, and called out her 
name. As she began in a sort of melodious chant 
— " Good ebenin', my brudder! Good ebenin', my 
sister ! Good ebenin', my Pastor ! Good ebenin', 
Rebern' Stranger!" I perceived that she had 
taken the Doctor again by the heart. And as she 
went on — " Rinah got no fader — Rinah got no 
mudder — Rinah got no brudder, no sister, no 
cousin, no nobody, no nuffin', ony Rinah Jesus — 
Jesus Rinah everyting — Rinah heart all Jesus — 
Rinah soon gwine for Jesus ! " he again broke down 
under a flood of feeling, and apologized for his 
weakness. Now came Dembo, a native African, 
nearly a hundred years old, with a head as white as 
snow, by everybody acknowledged the spotless 
Christian — the one saint of Charleston I " One 
time mo', my pastor! One time mo', my bredrea! 
One time mo', my sistren ! One time mo' Dembo 
heah ! Dembo ole now, Dembo shaky, wool all 
white ! Gwine down de valley to Dembo Jesus — - 
ober de ribba to angel city! No mo r Dembo nex* 
time — Dembo done gone home — -gone to Noo Joo- 



198 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



slem ! " And then he swung off into the song with 
which he always ended : 

" Roll, Jerdin, roll ! 

Let Brudda Dembo pass ! 
Roll, Jerdin, roll ! 
Dembo passin' ober ! " 

in which the whole multitude joined, as with the 
voice of many waters ; and my Unitarian friend lost 
all control of himself, shaking all over and sobbing 
• aloud. He afterward declared that it was the rich- 
est experience of his life, which he would not have 
missed for a golden pyramid ! 

Having so many colored people to preach to, I 
tried to adapt myself to their condition, and talk to 
them as to children. One Sunday morning my sub- 
ject was the storm on the Sea of Galilee, when 
Jesus came to his disciples walking upon the water. 
I drew a picture of the tempest and the terror, and 
it was soon apparent that the scene was a reality to 
the galleries. The darkies were all on board. 
They swayed to and fro with the vessel. Some 
stood up, and tried to steady themselves. Others 
seized the backs of the benches before them, and 
held, on for life. " She's going down ! " cried one. 
" We're all lost ! " shouted another. I quieted 
them, saying : " Don't be frightened ! There's no 
danger yet ! Simon's boat is well built and strong ! 
Been out in rougher weather than this, and never 
sprung a leak!" Then I instituted a colloquy 
among the apostles. One regretted that they had 
put to sea without the Master. Another thought 



TRINITY CHURCH. 



199 



he might be praying for them upon the mountain 
to which they had seen him go. A third was sure 
that he could see them through the darkness, and 
knew their condition as well as they did themselves. 
" Didn't he heal the centurion's servant without 
going to his house?" says James, "and can't he 
save us at a distance as easily as if he were here?" 
" I know he loves us too well to let us perish ! " ex- 
claims John ; "and if necessary, he'll come flying to 
our rescue on the wings of the wind ! " And com- 
ing he is ! " cries Peter, looking out through the 
spray. " See, he walks upon the water! he strides 
from wave to wave ! Ho, Master, is it thou ? " 
" No, no ! it is a spirit ! " they all answer ; " it is 
the demon of the storm ! See how the billows 
break around him ! He comes for our destruction ! 
Woe, woe ! we are undone ! " At this moment 
Judas, who sits steering at the stern, calls out to 
Andrew at the bow: "There's a big sea coming! 
Hold on to the money-bag! Don*t let that be 
washed overboard ! " At this a large negro, sitting 
just over my right shoulder in the gallery, sprang 
to his feet, and bent down over the parapet, as if 
plunging into the sea and grasping at the treasure, 
with the loudest shout I ever heard in my life : 
" Amen ! My Lord, save dat money ! " 

What followed, no language can describe — such a 
universal roar of laughter as I do not believe was 
ever heard in a church before, and as I certainly 
never heard in any theatre. Dr. Wightman, who 
sat behind me upon a sofa — the most reverent of 
men, and the greatest stickler for decorum and 



200 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



propriety — threw himself back and laughed peal 
on peal. I stood for some time trying to quiet the 
people, but all my efforts were in vain. When I 
thought I had succeeded, and was preparing to go 
on with my discourse, the laughter broke out 
afresh, and rolled wave on wave through the house, 
irresistible and uncontrollable. Turning to the 
Doctor, I asked — "What shall I do?" "Dismiss 
them with the benediction ! " he answered. " Bene- 
diction, indeed ! " said I. " As well dismiss a tor- 
nado with a benediction ! We had better leave the 
house ! " We departed, and the people followed, 
laughing aloud as they went. I did not laugh. I 
was extremely mortified. I wept from grief and 
shame. The good Doctor said : " You need not be 
distressed about it. You could not help it, and 
nobody is to blame. The whole thing Avas irresisti- 
ble. I was never before so taken off my guard." I 
laughed not then ; but a hundred times since, even 
when alone, I have laughed, without any self-re- 
proach, at the memory of the most ludicrous scene 
I ever witnessed. 

Yellow fever returned. Again, with my censer, I 
stood between the living and the dead. Two cases 
we had in the parsonage, but they were compara- 
tively mild, and the subjects were soon upon their 
feet. About eleven o'clock, one dark and stormy 
night, a messenger came with tidings that Dembo 
was down. Through the gusty rain, I hasted away 
nearly a mile to his cottage. Entering, I saw that 
the death-angel had already laid his pearls upon the 
old man's brow. Taking him by the hand, I 



TRINITY CHURCH. 



20 1 



asked: ''How is it now, Dembo?" "All right, 
Massa ! " he replied. "In Jerdin at las'! Feel de 
feet, Massa!" I felt them; they were cold. 
" Gwine home now, shuah ! " he continued. " Jesus 
neber leabe Dembo ! Dembo neber leabe Jesus no 
mo'! See de city! how he shine ! Angel comin'; 
heah 'em sing ! Dembo want for sing too ! 

" Roll, Jerdin, roll ! 

Let bruddah Dembo pass ! 
Roll, Jerdin, roll ! 
Dembo passin' ober ! " 

I prayed with him, and remained an hour. Then 
I saw unmistakable signs that the last moment was 
near. " How now, Dembo ? '* I inquired again. 
" All right, Massa ! " he again answered. " Mos' 
true de ribber ! Jesus hole Dembo han' ! Lif up 
a little! Sing 'em one time mo'!" We raised his 
head, and he began : 

" Roll, Jerdin, roll!" 

It was all he could articulate. We eased him back 
upon his pillow. "Jerdin" had rolled his last. 
Dembo had passed over. 

Two of the old aristocratic families had done 
their best to make a splendid wedding for two 
favorite servants. Both being members of Trinity 
church, of course I was called to officiate. The 
ceremony was performed in an ample hall, at the 
top of the marble stairs. The bride's trousseau was 
the most gorgeous I ever saw, and her twelve 
bridesmaids were attired to match. The bride- 



202 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



groom wore a suit of the finest broadcloth, with 
white satin vest and white kid gloves, and his 
twelve attendants were similarly clad. Gold orna- 
ments glittered in the gas-light, and many a gem 
flashed upon those sable forms. Even Solomon 
himself, in some respects, "was not arrayed like one 
of these." Having done my part, I retired to the 
drawing room, and sat with the white family and 
their Rector of St, Phillip's Church. The mistress 
said to me : " The bridegroom is coming to present 
you a cake, and doubtless will make a speech." 
The next moment he appeared, holding in his 
hands the cake, as large as a dairy milk-pan, wrapt 
in white tissue paper, and bound with white ribbons. 
Bowing -to the very floor, he said : " Right Rever- 
end and Most Honorable Sir ! I presents you this 
in the name of the Lord and the falling; sons of 
Adam, and hopes you'll continoo ! " What I re- 
plied T do not now remember; but the effect of 
Jim's speech upon those who heard it was not so 
easily forgotten. The mistress sent a boy with me 
in the carriage to take care of the cake, and kindly 
showed me how it was to be cut. When I came to 
this sequel of the ceremony, I found it had a golden 
core worth fifty dollars. 

There were many families of French Huguenots 
in Charleston. They had a beautiful church, but 
no minister. A number of times I was requested to 
officiate there, and did so. One of the Huguenot 
families had two children to be baptized, and de- 
sired it done at their residence. The children were 
a boy and a girl ; the former five years old, and the 



TRINITY CHURCH. 



203 



latter three. When I finished, the children each 
handed me a five-dollar gold-piece, and a godfather 
and a godmother each a gold eagle. 

I was about to embark for Europe, to be gone a 
year. The last Sunday before my departure I bap- 
tized a large number of colored children. A 
woman who had but recently joined the church, 
brought forward her whole progeny, boys and girls, 
to the number of eight. Arranged in the order of 
their respective ages, I took the oldest first, saying 
"Name this child." The mother replied, "Joe 
Cross." I baptized him by that name. The sec- 
ond was a girl ) but when I demanded the name, 
she again answered, " Joe Cross." I told her that 
would not do for a girl, and I had already given it 
to her brother. " I knows it," she responded ; " but 
I loves my pastoh, an' he gwine 'way 'cross de seas, 
an' I speks he get drowned, an' I nevah sees 'em no 
mo' an' wants foh 'member 'em when he done dead 
an' gone." I told Weston, her leader, to take her 
aside, and dissuade her from that foolish notion, 
and I would await the issue of the conference. The 
two retired and sat down together ; and I gave out 
a hymn, which the whole assembly sang with a will. 
Weston was evidently arguing the matter earnestly, 
but I saw the woman constantly shaking her head, 
and in the pauses of the verses caught some broken 
mutterings : " Loves my pastoh — 'member 'em — 
seas — drowned — no mo' — Joe Cross ! " The hymn 
finished, I called her back, took the child again by 
the hand, and demanded the name. With a de- 
cided emphasis, enforced by a vigorous nod, she ex- 



204 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



claimed: " Joe Cross — all Joe Cross — ev'ry one Joe 
Cross ! " So I proceeded, and baptized the whole 
eight by that name — girls as well as boys. But 
now comes the interesting sequel. Ten years later 
I was in London on a second visit. Crossing Tra- 
falgar Square, a fine looking mulatto hailed me, 
said his name was Joe Cross, had been baptized by 
me in Charleston, was here preparing for the minis- 
try, and going as a missionary to Africa ! 

During my sojourn in Charleston, I published 
three books. The first was The Hebrew Mission- 
ary — essays, exegetical and practical, on the book 
of Jonah. The next was Headlands OF Faith — 
essays on the cardinal doctrines of Christianity. 
The last was PlSGAH-VIEWS OF THE PROMISED IN- 
HERITANCE — dissertations on the unfulfilled prophe- 
cies. All had been preached as sermons, and were 
subsequently cast in other forms more likely to be 
read. The first and second were published at the 
Methodist house in Nashville, the third printed for 
the author at the Book Concern in New York, and 
all had a pretty good circulation. 

XLI. SOME EXCURSIONS. 

THERE was a great awakening in Savannah, and I 
was called upon for help. I went, and remained 
two weeks. Many were converted, and there were 
some cases of special interest. Two were young 
men, who subsequently entered the ministry. One 
of them became a Doctor of Divinity, and attained 
considerable distinction in the Georgia conference. 



SOME EXCURSIONS. 



205 



Another convert was a Mrs. Clarke, whose husband 
was a Unitarian. Twenty-two years before she had 
been my pupil. Three months afterward, she died 
in cheerful hope, and I went to officiate at her 
funeral, and the sermon which I preached on the 
occasion was published by her husband. 

I was invited to preach the Commencement Ser- 
mon at Emory College. Bishop Andrew was with 
us, and a large number of the Georgia ministers. 
Dr. George F. Pierce had resigned the Presidency 
of the institution, to enter upon his larger work in 
the Episcopacy. It was a tender parting, made 
memorable by speeches and presents, as well as by 
the marriage of his beautiful daughter to one of the 
graduates. His venerable father, Dr. Lovick Pierce, 
entertained us socially with many reminiscences of 
his early ministry, one incident of which only can 
here be recorded. 

Lovick began preaching when very young. His 
presiding elder was Hope Hull, a man of great fer- 
vor and energy. In a log chapel where he was 
preaching, Lovick sat behind him in a lofty pulpit. 
The seat was a plank resting upon two pegs driven 
into the wall. Brother Hull that day was a little 
more demonstrative than usual. The pulpit gave 
way, and the preacher went with it down into the 
aisle, leaving the young man sitting upon his shelf 
ten feet from the floor. The latter was very much 
abashed at finding himself suddenly in such a situa- 
tion, feet dangling, and nothing to hold on by. But 
the presiding elder, picking himself up from among 
the fragments, said : " Never mind, Brother 



206 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Lovick; turn round, and swing down." Then, with 
out appearing at all disconcerted, he mounted a 
bench, and went on with his sermon. 

Dr. Pierce had an elder brother, whose- name was 
Redick, belonging to the South Carolina conference. 
From his great faith, purity of character, and delib- 
erate emphasis of enunciation, he acquired the name 
of "The Old Prophet." In his age he had become 
so deaf that it was exceedingly difficult to make 
him hear. He came to a camp-meeting near Branch- 
ville. The next day appeared upon the ground a 
local preacher named Langley, who had a high rep- 
utation as snorer. These two were assigned berths 
together in the lower story of the stand, while the 
other preachers slept in the adjoining shanty. 
Sometime after midnight, Dr. Whiteford Smith was 
awakened by the creaking of the door. He sprang 
up, and encountered the Prophet. Making a speak- 
ing-trumpet of his two hands close to the old man's 
ear, he sang out : " Uncle Redick, what is the 
matter? are you ill ? " This awoke the rest of us in 
time to hear the answer, as solemn as the announce- 
ment of an oracle : " No, my son. I have been out 
to make an observation on the weather. I thought 
I heard the sound of distant thunder. But the sky 
is as clear as crystal,, and the stars are all shining 
like sapphires. It is very remarkable. Did you not 
hear it thunder? I' ve not- heard that sound before 
in twelve years ! " Just then Langley, still sleeping, 
came to another climax ; which sufficiently ex- 
plained the prophet's mystery, and rendered sleep 
for the remainder of the night a difficult attainment. 



SOME EXCURSIONS. 



207 



I attended the next session of the Georgia Con- 
ference. In the usual examination of character, a 
young man's name was called, of whom his presid- 
ing elder said : " I have nothing to allege against 
Brother B. ; but there is a matter afloat, which has 
obtained a wide publicity ; and for the information of 
others, I should like Brother B. to state the facts to 
the conference." Brother B. was a stalwart fellow 
of remarkable muscular development. A set of 
roughs had sent their champion simply to test his 
mettle. " A brawny Irishman came up to my 
room," said he, " and challenged me to fight. I 
told him I was a man of peace, and would not fight. 
He said I should fight, and drew back to strike me. 
I put out my hand, and he fell down. I then picked 
him up and conducted him to the head of the stairs. 
There he tried again to strike me ; but I put out 
my foot, and he fell down stairs." " Let us under- 
stand you," said the Bishop. " We want to know 
exactly what occurred. It is reported that you 
mauled the man unmercifully, and then kicked him 
down stairs. Is this true, or is it not? " " Bishop, 
I have told the whole story," was Brother B.'s 
reply; " and am willing to leave my case in the 
hands of my brethren." He retired and his charac- 
ter passed by acclamation. 

Here I made the acquaintance of Allen Turner — 
the most conscientious of men, and one of the most 
blameless. Finding himself in debt, he requested 
the conference to leave him without an appoint- 
ment till he could extricate himself from his pecu- 
niary embarrassment. He went into mercantile 



208 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



business, which had been his occupation before he 
entered the ministry. A good salesman, but a poor 
collector; the more goods he handled, the deeper he 
sank in debt. He had to resort to the law, and that 
made him unpopular with many of his customers. 
The second year was nearly passed, and he was very 
unhappy. One night after ten o'clock, as near 
crazy as a sane man could be, he was pacing to and 
fro among the trees in front of his house, praying 
God to show him his duty and help him out of his 
trouble. The sound of horse-hoofs caught his ear 
and the rider began to sing : 

" Oh, tell me no more 
Of Turner's old store ; 

He's got all my money, and sued me for more ! " 

He instantly resolved what to do, as soon as pos- 
sible sold out his stock of goods, and returned 
to the conference asking for an appointment. He 
was convinced, he said, that to forsake one's duty 
was not the way out of trouble. 

Brother Leard asked me to come and help him a 
few days in a protracted meeting on Black-Swamp 
circuit. I went and remained a week. A little 
negro of eight or nine years, assigned to my service, 
slept in my room. In the morning, while brushing 
my clothes, he said : " Mas', yeh ain't got no spar 
five dollah bill 'bout yeh, has yeh?" "What do 
you want of a five-dollar bill ? " I asked. To 
which he replied : "Dar a young yallar boy 'long to 
white buckra oveh yon, dat keep a callin' me black 
niggah ; an' I seed a pistol in de sto' what cos' jes' 



SOME EXCURSIONS, 



209 



five dollah ; an I 'lowed to get dat pistol an' shoot 
dat yallar boy. " 

The meeting proceeded pleasantly and prosper- 
ously. The Baptists, who were much stronger than 
we, came in and worshipped with us in the most 
fraternal manner. They had a fine choir, whose 
help was an excellent service. Their pastor, a good 
man and well educated, frequently took part in the 
work. On Saturday he said: "You will have a 
great crowd here to-morrow; our church is much 
larger than yours ; you had better occupy it, and we 
will all serve God together ; you shall conduct the 
meeting just as if you were in your own house, and 
I will take any part you see fit to assign me." 
Gladly we accepted the offer, and highly enjoyed 
the fellowship. 

The first thing Sunday morning was a love-feast. 
The house was full, and the larger half were colored 
people. An hour was occupied by the white breth- 
ren, both Methodist and Baptist. Then Brother 
Leard said: " There are twenty minutes remaining 
for the colored brethren ; no one must speak more 
than two minutes." With avidity they seized the 
opportunity. They were all Baptists, as was quite 
evident from the tone of their speeches. 

Nine persons had spoken, when one arose and 
said : " My Massa am Mettadis', but Fs a Baptis' 
wid Mettadis' principles, and don't bleve in fallin' 
from grace, 'cause I hears Massa read what 
Mas. Wesley say — no chasms in de Laud's work. 
Now, can't yeh see, if man fall from grace, 
raus' be he fall into chasm ; an if dar ain't no 



2IO 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



chasm, how man gwine fall from grace? Can't ye 
see?" 

Another was instantly ready for an answer : 
" Dar plenty people want for make destruction 
in de church ; an' sinners a stumblin' ober dem into 
plenty chasms. What de use sputen' 'bout prin- 
ciples ? Dem tings no 'count no how. 'Sperience 
what we wants. I's done had visions an' travels 
'bout dis meeten. John de Baptis' say he see great 
multitude in de valley ob decision. Dese niggahs 
bettah look out ! Day o' jedgment comin'. Laud 
gwine sweep de church wid de sword of Babylon. 
Dont yeh know what Nickerdemus say to Sockertes 
bout bein' borned of de Sperit in de water an' de 
" blood?" 

The ball was now in motion, and a low hum of 
many voices filled the house. An old man took the 
floor. He was bald, with a crescent of snow-white 
wool behind. As if chanting he began, and the 
musical cadence became more marked as he went 
on : " Dey calls me Ole Zeke, an' I's got a 'speri- 
ence what I wants for tell. I dream as how I wer 
out in de fiel' a hoein' of corn. An I heah Gabrel 
a blowin' of his trumpet 'long up an' down de river 
Jerdin. An' I see de jedgment day a comin', an' de 
chayets, an' de angels, an' de musics, an' all de 
dead folks. Den I mighty feared, an' drap de hoe, 
an' heel it for de swamp, an' sink deep down in de 
mud. An' Gabrel run arter me, an' tuk me by de 
han', and pull me out, an' carry me to riveh Jerdin, 
an' plunge me in de wateh, an' wash me all clean, 
an' put on long wite robe, an' fly way wid me over 



SOME EXCURSIONS. 



211 



de trees, an' come to Noo Jooslem, an' carry me in 
mighty big house. An' heaps, an' heaps o' people 
dar, settin' roun' tables, an' eatin', an' drinkin', an' 
singin' o' psalms, an' playin' on all sorts o' musics — 
'pear like mighty happy. Den I say — Gabrel, dis 
Heben, enty? Gabrel say — Yes, dis Heben. Den 
I say — Where Laud Jesus? He say — Dunno ; 
spose mus' be take 'em up stars. Den we go up 
shiny stars, in mighty big room — big as ten cotton 
fiel' — coulden' see furder side. An' heaps an' heaps 
o' people dar, settin' roun' tables, eatin', drinkin', 
singin' o' psalms, playin' on all sorts o' musics — 
mighty, mighty, mighty happy ! An' dar wot you 
tink I see ? De Laud Jesus, up in de cauner, settin* 
on a trone under a skeeteh net ! " 

Here the Baptist pastor interposed with, " That 
will do, Ezekiel ; " and the man with an experience 
subsided ; and brother Leard immediately closed the 
love-feast. These speeches which I have given, as 
well as I can recollect, in the very words of the 
speakers, could not well have occurred where 
Capers' Catechisms were known, or any sound sys- 
tem of religious instruction was practiced. These 
unfortunate. darkies had been left very much to their 
own fancies and feelings. With them, therefore, 
religion was merely an experience, and an experience 
might be a wild dream, might consist of fantastic 
" visions and travels," or vague and vagrant emo- 
tions ascribed to the Spirit of God. This is still the 
religion of the untaught negro of the South, very 
little better than that of his savage ancestors in 
Africa. It has no necessary connection with mo- 



212 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



rality, and no sanctifying power over the heart and 
life. As long as the colored people are left in igno- 
rance, abandoned to their own crude fancies, or 
given over to the blind leadership of men of their 
own race, they will never rise to any higher concep- 
tion of Christianity. 

XLI1. ON PILGRIMAGE. 

DURING my two years at Bethel, I had read 
Hebrew with one of the Charleston Rabbis. He 
was a lover of " the sacred language," who seemed 
to take real pleasure in imparting a knowledge of 
it to another. I caught something of his enthusi- 
asm, and profited not a little by his instruction. To 
read the ancient scriptures in the grand old tongue 
in which Moses preached and Abraham prayed, was 
indeed a sublime ambition. But now a new star 
rose upon my horizon, and beckoned me away from 
the opening gate of Eden. 

For some time past, Jeanie and I had been con- 
templating a tour in Europe. With my transfer to 
Trinity, the hope assumed a definite form, and 
seemed likely soon to be realized. I had not yet 
fully recovered from the effects of. the yellow fever. 
My physician advised a sea-voyage and foreign 
travel, as the most likely restorative of my wasted 
energies. For deliberation on such a question, no 
time was needed. Perfectly sure that the doctor was 
right, we at once began to shape everything toward 
the desired end. With nearly a year before us for prep- 
aration, we devoted that interval diligently to French 



ON PILGRIMAGE. 



2I 3 



and German. A skilled teacher in each of these lan- 
guages came twice a week to the parsonage ; and long 
before the time for embarkation, Jeanie imagined 
herself capable of telling an American story at a 
Parisian tea party, and I thought I need not decline 
an invitation to preach in the Frauen Kirche at 
Dresden. 

After an absence of thirty-one years, I again trod 
the soil of my native land. The massive solidity of 
Liverpool struck me as in admirable contrast with 
all I had seen of American cities. The mouth of 
the Mersey reminded me of the sad fate of Thomas 
Spencer, whose biography by Dr. Raffles I had read 
in the outset of my ministry. Spencer was a young 
man of remarkable gifts, whose pulpit was thronged 
by the elite and the intellect of Liverpool. One 
Sunday, after having preached with unusual unc- 
tion, he descanted at the dinner table on the 
blessedness of a sudden death — the glad surprise 
of the soul at awaking in the presence of the 
Lord. The next morning he went for his accus- 
tomed bath in the Mersey, and was drowned. 
Montgomery never wrote anything finer than 
his Lines on Thomas Spencer. Take a single 
stanza : 

" Revolving his mysterious lot, 
I mourn him, but I praise him not ; 

To God the praise be given, 
Who sent him, like the radiant bow, 
His covenant of peace to show, 
Athwart the passing storm to glow, 

Then vanish into heaven ! " 



214 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



His biographer was his successor, and one of the 
first preachers in England. Sunday morning I sat 
among his hearers. His subject was in perfect har- 
mony with my meditations : " Precious in the sight 
of the Lord is the death of his saints." It was a 
memorial sermon for a distinguished member otf his 
flock recently departed. How beautifully he dwelt 
on the security, the tranquillity, and the triumphant 
hope, of those who die in the Lord ! The audience 
was very large, but all were dissolved in tears, and 
there was an unusual tremulo in the voice of the 
preacher when he alluded to his illustrious prede- 
cessor " snatched away by the hand of Almighty 
Love." 

In the evening I heard Dr. Hugh McNeile at St. 
Luke's. What a difference ! The morning sermon 
was a breeze from Olivet ; this was a blast from 
Sinai. That full, round, sonorous bass voice was 
one of the most majestic I ever heard. Terrible 
was the power of the preacher's invective upon Eng- 
land's policy in the East Indies. "The hour of 
judgment will come," said he, "and Britain shall 
not escape ! There is blood upon her gold ! " All 
who heard them shuddered at the words, but none 
dreamed how soon the prediction would be fulfilled, 
and with what a sweep of vengeance ! A few 
months, and all England was mourning for the mas- 
sacred in India. As we left the church Jeanie said : 
" I felt as if I were sitting at the base of a moun- 
tain, while a giant at the top sent down avalanches 
of jagged ice upon me ! " A week later Dr. dim- 
ming remarked to me : " Make Hugh McNeile's 



ON PILGRIMAGE. 



215 



voice a baritone, and give him a more copious dic- 
tion, with an imperial fancy, and you have Edward 
Irving." 

Monday evening we were in London, and re- 
mained there long enough to see St. - Paul's, and 
Westminster Abbey, and the Victoria Tower, and 
the British Museum, and hear the two most elo- 
quent preachers in England. That Melvill and 
Spurgeon were both eloquent, and eloquent to a 
grand degree, is beyond all question ; but the two 
differed in the character of their eloquence, not less 
than in the ecclesiastical systems which they re- 
spectively represented. The solid conservative the- 
ology of Dean Trench in the Abbey, and the 
millennial speculations of Dr. Cumming at Crown 
Court, furnished us an instructive contrast. Charles 
Kingsley's practical sense and Pauline charity were 
refreshing and stimulating to the soul. From the 
broad Scotch tongue of James Hamilton, in Irving's 
pulpit, flowed an hour-long cascade of sparkling 
metaphors, characteristic and captivating. In the 
huge unfinished temple of the Irvingites, " the 
angel of the church " discoursed soberly and sol- 
emnly of " judgment to come," with an accompani- 
ment of ritual extremely gorgeous ; and in the 
prayer offered for the dead, I could not help setting 
the name of Edward Irving. Last of all, I must not 
omit to mention the mausoleum of British Method- 
ism, City Road Chapel ; where we had Morning 
Prayer, Litany, and Ante-Communion intoned 
cathedralwise, with musical responses and organ ac- 
companiment ; all followed by a rousing extempore 



2l6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



prayer, and a sermon to match, from the pulpit 
whence John Wesley so often had poured forth his 
burning soul. 

Much as I desired to see Somersetshire, it would 
not do to mar the program of our travels. For the 
present, we must away to the continent, and post- 
pone the gratification of these natural heart-yearn- 
ings till our return. At Dover we had a late dinner 
and some hours of elegant leisure; but the enormity 
of our bill brought us into full sympathy with a 
French fellow-traveller, whose lamentations over 
" ten sheeling for von such leetle deenare " were 
enough to touch the hardest heart. As usual, the 
night-transit of the channel was too nauseating for 
sleep. As we sat in the darkness on deck near 
midnight, we saw the dim outline of a tall figure in 
a cloak striding up and down ; and now and then 
heard mysterious mutterings, as if in colloquy with 
the winds and waves : " Ten sheeling ! ten sheel- 
ing! for von such leetle deenare!" After a vexa- 
tious detention at the Calais custom-house, passports 
vist and luggage plombf, we were at length ready 
for the rail. Two trains stood side by side; one for 
Cologne the other for Paris. We took the former, 
our fellow diner the latter. As both started at the 
same moment, I caught the flutter of a white hand- 
kerchief, and the wail of a well known voice : 
" Monsieur ! deenare a la Dovare a ten sheeling ! 
nevare you forget ! nevare ! nevare ! " Whether the 
unhappy man's Jeremiad has ever ceased, or con- 
tinues to this day, I would like to know. 

In the railway carriage we had a Pole for our 



ON PILGRIMAGE. 



217 



companion — a man of fine sense and elegant cul- 
ture, who spoke fluently both French and German. 
Just as we started, a boy laid on one of the seats a 
fur overcoat and foot-sack. I took them to be the 
Pole's ; the Pole supposed them to be mine. He 
asked me what they cost in America. Misunder- 
standing cost for value, which are not perfect 
synonyms, I answered — " Perhaps seventy-five dol- 
lars." We had been travelling more than an hour, 
when the conductor came and demanded our 
passports. He and the Pole engaged in earnest 
conversation, to which I paid no attention till 
I heard the latter exclaim : "Nein, nein ! er 
ist pastor! er ist doctor!" Then, turning to me, 
he inquired: " Ist das iren roch?" " Nein ! " Ire- 
plied; "Ist es nicht irigen ? " " Nein, nein!" he 
answered, with great emphasis. Then I perceived 
that the conductor was making inquisition for a 
hypothetic thief. He was soon satisfied that 
neither of us would answer his quest, and the whole 
matter was an error of the boy, who had mistaken 
the one or the other of us for the owner of the arti- 
cles. Our companion seemed to lay the thing seri- 
ously to heart ; while Jeanie, who saw chiefly the 
ludicrous side of it, found in it sufficient music for 
the rest of the day. 

But if I pause to relate every incident by the way 
when shall we arrive in Italy? Let us hasten on. 
Of Cologne, and Leipsic, and Dresden, and Vienna, 
with their cathedrals, and palaces, and monuments, 
and galleries, and museums, and royalties, and hero- 
isms, and painted shams — of the passage of the 



218 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Semmering, and the bitter blasts of the bora, and 
Trieste sitting so modestly at the margin of the 
Adriatic, and how I spoke German so much better 
than the Germans that they thought it was French, 
and French so much better than the French that 
they took it for German — I will write when I have 
nothing else to write of. For the present, Italy is 
before us — the land of beauty, of music, and of 
art. 

XLIII. IN ITALY. 

TWENTY-FOUR hours we had waited at Trieste 
for the subsiding of the bora ; and when for the sec- 
ond night we retired to rest, all the fiends of the air 
were roaring along the roofs, wailing down the 
chimneys, drumming on the brazen cupolas, trum- 
peting through the arches of towers and steeples, 
and shrieking among the masts and cordage in the 
harbor. Amidst the terrific dissonance, praying for 
the peace of the elements, I fell asleep, and dreamed 
of smiling skies, and blooming fields, and groves of 
living verdure, and villas of enchanting loveliness, 
with nightingales singing in the garden-shrubbery — 
gorgeous palaces full of breathing statues, and acres 
of glowing canvas on walls of rarest marble, and 
great churches whose domes and towers are lost in 
heaven, and long processions of chanting monks 
through endless colonnades, and — ■ 

" For Venezia, ho ! It is not now bora ! Bora is 
finish ! It is for Venezia good vind ! Rise, Sig- 
nori ! rise and come ! " 



IN ITALY. 



219 



Welcome summons of the porter at our door, 
though it cut off the flow of a beautiful dream 
which was going on indefinitely ! In thirty minutes 
we were ready. The sun rose cloudless over the 
Istrian hills, as we steamed away for the sea-born 
city. The snowy summits of the Alps kindled with 
gold and sapphire, and the line of villages and ham- 
lets along the Adriatic coast glowed like a necklace 
of pearls. Prosperously we went on, and were 
eagerly looking out for some indications of Venice, 
when suddenly we saw a black wall before us, fifty 
feet high, and rapidly rising higher. The next 
moment we ran into a bank of fog that would have 
done honor to London. Instantly earth and heaven 
were blotted out, and a cold thrill went shivering to 
the bones. Soon we heard a wild shout upon the 
water, and the dim form of a boat was seen at our 
side. Then came a shrill clamor of voices. We 
were gliding in between two piers. Boats were pas- 
sing in all directions. The engine stopped, and our 
floating universe stood still. Some one said, " This 
is Venice!" Venice indeed! Here was nothing 
but foul water and fog impenetrable ! Dickens had 
seen Venice as a dream ; was it to be a dream for 
us also ? I prophesied to the winds, and they were 
not slow to respond. Soon the vapor began to 
revolve and rise. Here and there bright points 
gleamed through its upper stratum, like friendly 
eyes looking down from heaven. In less than 
twenty minutes, the last lingering vagrant of the 
host of darkness had been driven far out to sea ; and 
all around us like a crystallized exhalation of sea- 



220 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



foam, lay the strangely beautiful city — the Queen of 
the Adriatic, enthroned upon her seventy-two 
islands — where, for fourteen centuries, with a hun- 
dred and twenty-seven doges she maintained her 
independence, swept the seas with her navies, and 
claimed supremacy among the nations — now the 
chief city of an Austrian province, visited by the 
lovers of art and students of history, who come to 
see her incomparable palaces and churches, and 
muse amidst the memorials of her departed 
glory. 

Our stay was brief, the rising sun on the fourth 
day saluted us en route for Milan. On our right 
the snow-hooded Alps showed glorious against the 
deep blue sky ; while, on our left, as far as we could 
see, lay the greenest fields and fairest vineyards, 
enclosed with long lines of pollarded poplars. Calm 
and confiding, Vicenza nestled between the knees 
of the giant hills, whose heads wese lost in heaven. 
Then we crossed the swift Adige, where sat Verona, 
immortalized by Shakespeare. Its memorials of 
Romeo and Juliet are rather hypothetic, and its 
streets and avenues ring no more with the shouts of 
Montague and Capulet ; but the ancient Roman 
bridge and gate are there, and the great amphithea- 
tre is almost as perfect as when the eager thousands 
thronged it for their cruel sport. Lago di Garda 
gave us a glimpse of Paradise, which brought a 
sober Scotchman, with noisy demonstrations, to his 
feet. Reaching far up among the Tyrolean dolo- 
mites, it seemed a highway of waters to a fairer 
world. Ever and anon, as we rounded some prom- 



IN ITALY. 



221 



ontory in our progress, new scenes of beauty rilled 
us with pure delight. 

It was night when we entered Milan. The city 
was ablaze with lamps and torches. A great bonfire 
burned before the cathedral. Church bells rang. 
Brass horns tooted and bellowed. The whole popu- 
lation seemed to be in the street. Who had told 
them we were coming ? What had made us all at 
once so popular? Alas ! there floats the Austrian 
flag! This solves the problem. Imperial Majesty 
must be here. Upon enquiry this turns out to be 
the cause of all this ado. Imperial Majesty arrived 
a few hours before us. Humbled to our normal in- 
significance, we haste through the jostling crowd to 
our albergo. There we sleep as soundly, no doubt, 
as " the head that wears a crown." The Milanese 
have no great love for their oppressors. Amidst 
their vivas and their songs, one " who has ears to 
hear," may detect a deep undertone of discontent, 
with many a muttered curse. 

In the morning we look out upon the marble 
miracle of the city, glowing in the rising sun like a 
great iceberg splintered into a thousand pinnacles. 
On a nearer view, it seems a pyramid of gems, upon 
whose top a flight of angels have alighted during 
the night. At ten o'clock we are walking the roof 
amidst that snow-white population, and thence 
mounting the slender Jacob's ladder toward the 
Heaven from which they seem to have descended. 
From the loftiest loggia of the spire, what a pano- 
rama lies before us ! on one hand, the mountain 
crescent, with peaks and domes of chrysalite, lakes 



222 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



like sheets of fallen sky at their base, and many a 
gleaming town looking out from bowers of living 
verdure ! on the other, the green plains of Lorn 
bardy, intersected and embroidered with threads of 
silver, and sown broadcast with opals ! 

Thence we descend into the crypt, and commune 
with San Carlo Borromeo. There, under the altar, 
in a magnificent crystal sarcophagus, amidst a 
superb emblazonry of jewels, lies the mortal sheath 
of one of the grandest heroic souls the Roman 
church has produced since Ambrose and Augustin. 
Having given away a large fortune to the poor, he 
slept upon a plank, wore the roughest robe, ate the 
coarsest bread, breathed pestilence from the lips of 
the dying, more than once escaped the assassin's 
dagger, and long before the day of Robert Raikes 
organized a Sunday-school here for the religious in- 
struction of children. 

Hence to Genoa la superba — a city of narrow 
streets and lofty palaces, with splendid bazars, and 
romantic villas, and ilex-shaded promenades, and 
green background of fortified hills, and outlook over 
an interminable festoonery ot vines upon the bright 
waters of the Mediterranean. Embarking here for 
Civita Vecchia, we had a hair's-breadth escape from 
breaking the tenth commandment. On board the 
steamer, we found two wealthy Virginian families, 
who had come completely equipped for enjoying 
Italy to the utmost, having brought with them 
horses, carriages, household furniture, domestic ser- 
vants, and doubtless plenty of money. 

At Civita Vecchia we encountered a priest, fresh 



IN ITALY. 



223 



from Rome, and full of information. He gave us a 
name and a number in the Piazza d'Espagna, where 
we would find suitable rooms, and his card would be 
our sufficient introduction. The people there were 
cultured, benevolent, and wonderfully honest. He 
had lodged with them three months, and had noth- 
ing stolen. You might go out in the morning, and 
leave your purse full of money on the table, and you 
would find it untouched when you returned in the 
evening. But in making a bargain with them you 
must be very careful, and have everything exactly 
stipulated, because they would certainly cheat you 
if they could. Jeanie enquired something about 
the Via Appia and the route to Naples ; to which 
he replied : " Oh, yes, Signora ! It is very happy. 
Indeed, it is quite safe. There are now no ban- 
ditti." Evidently, he did not know the Via Appia 
by that name. 

Hence to Rome by diligence was a dreary trip. 
Nothing could be less interesting than the desolate 
hills of the Campagna. Here were massive sub- 
structions, there fragmentary ruins, and now and 
then we saw an ivy-mantled tower. I went back 
two thousand years, and peopled them all with liv- 
ing throngs. The scene was a continuous succes- 
sion of groves, and gardens, and vineyards, and 
patrician villas. The incessant noise of the jack- 
daws became the clamor of human multitudes. 
Soldiers with measured tread were marching toward 
the metropolis. Messengers with dispatches were 
speeding to the coast. Lulled by the monotonous 
hum of wheels and clatter of hoofs, I closed my 



224 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



eyes, or night fell over the landscape. I was in 
Rome. 

" Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, 
And drizzled blood upon the Capitol, 
And noise of battle hurtled in the air ; " 

and then there was a sudden scuffle, and a fearful 
outcry, and a mournful muffled voice exclaiming — 
" Et tu Brute!"— 

Voila Veglise du Sant Pierre ! " cried a French- 
man at my side. I looked out, and there, over a 
high wall, vague and mysterious in the night, hung 
the great dome, like a world-extinguisher let down 
from heaven ! The next moment we passed 
through a lofty archway and paused. I heard a 
great bell tolling the midnight hour. In Rome at 
last! 

XLIV. ROME. 

Breakfasting the next morning at our hotel, 
we at first thought ourselves alone ; but Jeanie 
soon called my attention to a gentleman at the 
other end of the room, saying — " He must be an 
American." Perceiving that we observed him, he 
came to us, inquiring if we were not from the 
United States. " We are," I answered ; " and if I 
mistake not, so are you." " Yes," he replied — 
" from Illinois — been here four days — done Rome — 
leave to-morrow for Egypt — then Holy Land — back 
by way of Athens — see as much as possible in short- 
est possible time — can't be away long — no fooling 



ROME. 



225 



about antiquities — hope see you some day at home. 
We shook hands and parted. " That is a man of 
energy," said Jeanie. " He will make his mark in 
the world. I am going to watch his career. Be 
assured, we shall hear from him again." About 
twenty years after this, I witnessed the inaugura- 
tion of Richard Oglesby as Governor of Illinois, and 
reminded him of our interview in Rome. 

Having letters to several Americans in the city, 
I sallied forth in quest of them. One of those 
human conveniences found everywhere in Italy, 
ready for any service to the forestieri, offered to 
conduct me wherever I wished to go. I gave him 
the names of Mr. Johnson, pittore, and Mr. Barthol- 
omew, sculpt ore. Oh, yes ! he knew them both, and 
would lead me by the shortest route to their respec- 
tive studios. I followed him up and down the 
Babuino, while he inquired at twenty places for 
" Monsieur Zhouse, sculptore, and Signore Bartolo- 
meo, pittore." He evidently knew nothing of 
either. I dismissed him, and soon after found them 
both. They introduced me to Paul Akers and Mr. 
Page, to whom also I had letters. All were anx- 
ious to be of some service to us. Mr. Johnson 
accompanied me to the apartamenti recommended 
by the priest. They were just what we wanted. 
In five minutes I had engaged them at sixteen 
scudi per mese. An hour more, and we were estab- 
lished in our quarters on the Piazza dEspagna. 

It was Saturday night. At half-past nine the 
padrone came home. High words occurred between 
him and his wife. She had let the rooms too low. 



226 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Padrone waxed fierce and loud. He came to our 
rooms, and demanded instant payment in advance 
for a month. I told him it would be impossible to 
see my banker at so late an hour. Then we must 
leave the rooms at once. I told him I would see 
what could be done, and went immediately to Mr. 
Bartholomew. Mr. B. said : " I know that man. 
He is an artist, unprincipled and dangerous. But 
he is afraid of me. I know how to manage him." 
He accompanied me back, told Jeanie not to be 
alarmed, took his station in the middle of the room, 
and said — " Call in the padrone.'' Padrone entered. 
" Que diavolo ! " was Mr. B.'s mild salutation. " Ah I 
Signore Diavolo ! " was the Italian's response. 
Then came from our friend a storm of Italian voca- 
bles which might have intimidated a Roman legion. 
Padrone visibly wilted, began to stammer apologies, 
said the forestieri should remain in the apartments, 
and he would require nothing till the end of the 
month. " They will remain till Monday morning, 
no longer," replied our friend ; "and if I hear any- 
thing more from you, you know with whom the 
matter is to be settled ! " Then turning to me, he 
said : " Doctor, you will have no more difficulty ! " 
and immediately left the room. The Italian was as 
gentle as a lamb, asked our pardon in the humblest 
manner, and hoped we would command his services 
in any way to make us comfortable. 

Monday morning Mr. Bartholomew came to es- 
cort us to a better place, which he had procured for 
us at the same cost, on the Via Fratina. The 
padrone, though we urged him, utterly refused our 



ROME. 



227 



offered compensation for the use of his rooms. 
This whole matter was a mystery, till others fur- 
nished us the explanation. The artists, of all sorts 
and all nationalities, once a year had a grand festival 
and masquerade out on the campagna. On one of 
those occasions, Mr. B., being very strong and very 
tall, as well as lame of one foot, and nowise remark- 
able for personal pulchritude, had represented his 
satanic majesty. Our padrone, having taken a little 
too much, grew insolent and abusive to some of the 
American artists. Mr. B. became their champion, 
as he had now become ours, and gave him such a 
chastisement as he had not yet forgotten. From 
that day the Italians called Mr. B. " Signore 
Diavolo" and feared him more than they feared the 
character he had personated so effectually. 

Our new apartments on the Via Fratina were 
completely and elegantly furnished. In one corner 
stood a fine bust of His Holiness Pio Nono, and 
two front windows looked right into the rooms of 
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe across the way. Hither 
came our friends, with all sorts of kind attentions. 
Mr. B. especially, having made so good a beginning, 
was unwearied in well doing. He undertook to 
manage everything for us, and a better commission- 
aire we could not possibly have found. Twice a 
week, regularly, he came to tea ; always taking the 
head of the table, and treating us as his guests. He 
advised us to learn Italian, and introduced to us 
Prof. Sanguinetti of the Collegio Romano, who be- 
came our tutor. In a very short time we were able 
to read and speak the language quite tolerably. 



228 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Our ordinary Sunday reading was Bossuet in the 
French and the New Testament in Italian. One 
Lord's-day, in the mood for solitude, I wandered 
away some miles over the desolate Campagna , and 
on a hill which gave a good view of the city, sat 
down and read the seven Pauline epistles said to 
have been written at Rome. It was not the safest 
thing to do ; and, returning in the evening twilight, 
I was fiercely assailed by a pack of shepherd dogs. 
Fortunately, I knew how to meet them. Like a 
brave man, turning my back to the foe, I threw my 
coat-skirts over my shoulders, bent down, looked at 
them from between my legs, and advanced back- 
wards with a good courage. Having never seen a 
creature with his head in that position, they made a 
hasty retreat, and left me in full possession of the 
field. 

Mr. Cass, the American Minister, resided in the 
Braschi Palace. One of its largest saloons he had 
fitted up as a chapel. Being the only place of 
public worship for Protestants within the city walls, 
it was usually filled twice every Lord's-day with 
artists and tourists, chiefly English and American. 
Invited to preach there, I did so several times. ■ An 
American lady, interested in one of the sermons, 
called the next day to make our acquaintance, and 
gave us some account of her residence in Rome. 
Twenty years ago, she had come hither an invalid ; 
and, finding the climate beneficial, had rented a 
palace in the Corso, and occupied it ever since. 
She had a son of twenty years and a daughter of 
eighteen, both well .educated and finely accom- 



ROME. 



229 



plished. Her husband, a very rich man, resided in 
New York, coming once in two years to spend the 
winter with his family, and they once in two years 
going to spend the summer with him. Before 
leaving she invited us to drive with her on the 
morrow. At the appointed hour she came with her 
carriage, and took us to Monte Testaccia— a hill 
more than a hundred feet high, three hundred feet 
broad, and half a mile long, composed entirely of 
broken pottery, and excavated everywhere into 
vaulted chambers — the huge wine-cellar of Rome. 
On our return she said : " I am interested in your 
welfare, and would like to be of some service to 
you. Being on pretty good terms with His Holi- 
ness and well acquainted with a number of the 
cardinals, I can secure your entre to many places 
seldom seen by any of the local ciceroni, and save 
you some time and money. Now I propose to 
drive with you every day, when the weather is 
suitable. You shall select the hour, and I the 
route to be taken and the objects to be seen. If 
you agree to this arrangement, you shall see more 
of Rome and its surroundingc in six months than 
any other American couple ever saw in as many 
years." 

This offer was a surprise. For a moment we 
were dumb with gratitude. When I began to 
stammer out my estimate of her kindness, and ask 
what returns I could ever make for such extraor- 
dinary generosity, she interrupted me with these 
words : " My dear sir ! I am rewarded a hundred 
fold in advance ! The effect of your sermon yester- 



230 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



day upon my son is a blessing for which I can never 
repay you ! It is for his sake, and at his request, I 
make you this proposal." This quite overwhelmed 
us both, and I wanted place and opportunity for 
worthier expression of my gratitude to the Divine 
Goodness. 

The hour was fixed ; and at ten the next morn- 
ing, Mrs. M. and her gentlemanly son were in the 
carriage at our door. We drove to the Protestant 
cemetery, just within the Aurelian wall, hard by 
the Ostian gate. Here stands the pyramid of 
Caius Cestius, a hundred and sixty feet high, presid- 
ing over the mournful field of mortality. Keats 
sleeps in its shadow, beneath that sad inscription of 
baffled ambition — " Here lies one whose name was 
writ in water." Just under the rampart a few 
paces distant, reposes the heart of Shelley, with 
" Cor Cordium " conspicuous upon the superin- 
cumbent marble. A son of Goethe, one of the 
English Hares, and many American artists and 
tourists, have here dropped the frail vesture, 
amidst laurel and cypress and perennial bloom. A 
beautiful place it is, in which to await the resurrec- 
tion of the just. Here sits an artist on a tomb, so 
absorbed in his work that he does not notice us. 
Yonder walks an English lady deeply veiled in 
black, seeking an inscription which shall tell her 
where to drop a tear for one she loved. Through 
this gate and over these stones, on the twenty- 
ninth day of June, in the year of our Lord sixty- 
eight, marched St. Paul to martyrdom ; and that 
glorious church in the distance, one of the noblest 



ROME. 



23I 



in Italy, marks the spot where his head fell beneath 
the sword of Nero's executioner. 

At the same hour the next day Mrs. M. with 
her daughter was again at the door. And so daily 
she continued to come, accompanied sometimes by 
her son, sometimes by her daughter, and never 
wearied in her kindness, so long as we remained in 
Rome. With how many interesting scenes and 
objects her name is inseparably associated in my 
memory ! churches, palaces and suburban villas, 
with their paintings, marbles, mosaics, and antique 
treasures — the baths, temples, forums, circuses, and 
majestic Coliseum— the desolate site of Antemnse, 
the dreary sepulchres of Fidenae, and the shattered 
fragments that show where Veii flourished before 
Rome was founded — the catacombs, with their 
Christian altars, funereal inscriptions, and memorials 
of the blessed martyrs — the Basilica Vaticanus, 
with its shrines, statues, misereres, papal benedic- 
tions, Easter illuminations, and outlook and down- 
look from the summit of its dome — the grand ponti- 
fical residence, with its four thousand rooms, and 
population of six thousand souls, and incalculable 
collection of books and manuscripts, of arts and 
antiquities, and wonderful works of Raphael, and 
Bramante, and Paladio, and Buonarotti — the 
mausoleum of Cecilia Metella, and the fragments 
that lie scattered along the Appian Way, and the 
huge arches of the aqueducts that look like pre- 
Adamite monsters promenading the Campagna — the 
trip to Frascati, the exploration of Tusculum, the 
wanderings about Tivoli, the ascent of Monte Cavo, 



232 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the seat of ancient Alba Longa, the incomparable 
environs of the Alban Lake, the enchanting Val' 
Arricia, and midnight among the nightingales ! 
For all this, and much more, may God reward 
the noble-hearted woman in time and in eternity ! 

XLV. CAMPANIA FELIX. 

Having spent the carnival in the Corso and 
Holy Week in St. Peter's, we were ready now for 
the first half of the precept — " See Naples and die." 
Death before Naples would have been unwelcome. 
Naples had been from the first one of our brightest 
dreams of Italy. .And now, good reader, behold us 
on our way — six happy souls in a chartered vetura. 
Do you know what a chartered vetura means ? It 
means absolute command of our route, stopping 
when we please, staying as long as we like, and 
veturale responsible everywhere for our entertain- 
ment. All such matters pre-arranged, we are abso- 
lutely free from care, and open to all enjoyment. 
Since Horace journeyed with Maecenas to Brundu- 
sium, who ever got more good out of the same 
ground than we did? Most of our course lay along 
the old Appian Way, and here and there we found 
the imperishable pavement of travertine cropping 
out, as perfect as it was the day after it was laid. 
Melancholy memorials of Rome's ancient grandeur 
are these shattered towers, temples and tombs, 
stretching away across the plain to the base of the 
Alban hills. Some of the monuments are of vast 
dimensions. The mausoleum of Cecelia Metella, 



CAMPANIA FELIX. 



233 



stripped of its costly marbles, was long used for a 
fortress. That of Messala Corvinus, reared while 
our Lord was walking the hills of Palestine, has 
upon its top a farm-house, with out-buildings, a 
vegetable garden, and a grove of olive-trees. 

To one who has never seen it, the desolate ap- 
pearance of the Campagna Romano, is inconceivable. 
An undulating waste of verdure and bloom, alternate 
ing with sluggish streams and stagnant pools — bare 
precipices, pierced with gloomy caverns — rugged 
mounds, surmounted with crumbling arches and 
towers — dark ravines, choked up with ruins and rank 
with interlaced brambles — huge fragments of aq- 
ueducts, some of them a hundred feet high, like great 
prehistoric monsters striding over the fields — it seems 
a vast amphitheatre after the spectacle is over and 
the occupants are gone — the battle-ground on which 
the warriors of other worlds have contended for the 
mastery of this ! Were the soil transparent, we 
should see beneath our feet teeming cities, and 
reeking sepulchres, and armies buried in their blood. 
In the solar system, we know of nothing with which 
to compare it, except the surface of our own blasted 
satellite. In one respect, thank God ! it is unlike 
that ; it has an atmosphere, which robes its dreari- 
ness with emerald velvet, and perfumes its copses 
with primrose and violet, and makes its solitudes 
musical with the song of the lark and the nightin- 
gale. 

But here we are, at the foot of the Alban hills. 
To relieve our own limbs, as well as the four horses, 
we dismount and walk up the long steep, frequently 



234 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



turning to look back upon the grave of the grandest 
empire that ever ruled the world. Everywhere, 
amidst grape-vines and olive-trees, we trace the 
immortal ruins. It is two miles to the top, where 
we find ourselves a thousand feet above the plain, 
among villas and convents and churches embowered 
in living bloom, with avenues of stone-pines which 
interlace their branches high over head. Blessed be 
Pio Nono, who spanned this beautiful Val' Ariccia 
with the noble viaduct, on three tiers of lofty 
arches, from which we look down three hundred 
feet upon trees and shrubbery alive with innumera- 
ble song-birds ! Here sits the fine old Chigi palace, 
its walls in fresco telling the story of Hippolytus 
and the nymph yEgeria. Half a mile to our left, 
on the rim of Lacus Albanns stands Cast el Gondolfo, 
one of the favorite summer residences of His Holi- 
ness. A little farther on, we pass Nemi and 
Gensano, looking at each other across a little sheet 
of water, which seems a huge sapphire set in the 
mountain side. The old Romans called it Speculum 
DiancB — Diana's Mirror ; and Trajan built himself a 
magnificent floating palace, which he anchored in 
the centre. Then we walked over the ruins of the 
ancient Carioli, the great Volscian city captured by 
Caius Marcius ; and saw at our right the modern 
kennel Lavigna, representing the old Lanuvium, 
where Milo was born, Muraena, Roscius the come- 
dian, St. Luke's Cyrenius, and the three Antonini. 

Our first night we spent at Veletri. The next 
morning, as we departed, more than half a score of 
children, with rags indescribable fluttering in the 



CAMPANIA FELIX. 



235 



wind, ran beside our vetura, clamorously invoking 
carita. Jeanie remembered Veletri as the scene of 
a shocking accident in the Improvisitore, which left 
the young Antonio an orphan in an unfriendly 
world. To her, Andersen's story was so much a 
reality, that her sympathy was very active on behalf 
of these poveri infelici, and she besought Jehu to 
drive slowly and cautiously till we were out of 
town. This gave them the better chance, and they 
improved their opportunity. They struck up a 
song as they ran, keeping time with hands and feet, 
and putting their whole vocal power into the oit- 
recurring chorus : 

" Signorina graziosa, 
Date mi qualca cosa ! " * 

We threw out to them a handful of bajocchi, for which 
they scrambled bravely. One of the smallest girls 
who had a voice as sweet as Annunziata's, and had 
done her full share in the singing, got nothing. 
While the rest remained behind molto contento, she 
renewed the race, weeping piteously. We stopped 
the carriage, and gave her more than all her com- 
panions had got. And after we drove on, looking 
back, we saw her dancing in the dust and flinging 
kisses after us as long as she was visible. 

We soon passed Cisterna, whence our road de- 
scended rapidly toward the Pontine Marshes. Here 
was the bandit-haunted forest, with tall crosses 
erected along the wayside to mark the spot where 



* Gracious young lady, give me something. 



236 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



some unfortunate traveller had fallen into rapacious 
and cruel hands. Then we came to Tre Taberncz 
and Foro Appio, where St. Paul met parties of his 
Jewish brethren, who came thus far to greet him as 
ne " went toward Rome." We saw the substruc- 
tions of the old buildings where the centurion 
paused with his prisoner, and took our collazione 
perchance in the very place where the Apostle had 
taken his. I went forth alone, and walked up and 
down the ancient way, and saw a company of 
horse approaching from the south, and in their 
midst a meek and gentle captive loaded with chains; 
and I caught the gleam of a tear in his eye, as he 
answered the salutation of his brethren : " I am 
ready to preach the Gospel to you who are at Rome 
also ; " and, in some poor sympathy with him, I 
" thanked God and took courage." Saint Paul 
brought hither the dayspring from the orient. He 
preached Christ in the world's metropolis, some of 
his converts there bore the glad tidings to the 
British Isles, and his bonds and martyrdom were 
life and liberty to millions in the remoter west. To 
the heroic "prisoner of Jesus Christ," through the 
Divine mercy, we are indebted for all that gladdens 
our hearts and homes and gilds our hopes with 
glory. Let us bless the Providence that brought 
St. Paul to Rome. 

At this point begins the canal on which Horace 
and his friends embarked for Terracina in the even- 
ing. We do better, speeding along the fine 
Appian Way by daylight, more than twice as fast as 
the poet and the patrician penetrated the palpable 



CAMPANIA FELIX. 



237 



night-fog of the marsh. On our right lies the 
Italian " dismal swamp," forty miles long and 
fifteen miles wide, sheltering many a wild boar and 
herds of fierce buffalos. On our left rises the green 
wall of the Volscian Hills, with bright cascades 
gleaming out from their ravines, and gay towns and 
villages enthroned upon their summits. Were it 
not so large and so blue, Monte Circello, thirty 
miles before us, might suggest the idea of a lion 
that had swum over from Africa and lain down 
upon the shore to look back upon his achievement. 

But here is Terracina, where we are to rest for 
the second night. It is only three o'clock, and we 
have plenty of time to climb the mountain, and call 
at Theodoric's castle, and see a score of boys bury 
themselves in the sand under the window of our 
albergo, before the sun goes to bed in the sea. 
Terracina furnishes Jeanie a number of fine quota- 
tions from the Improvisitore ; and here she treads 
in the tracks of Corinne, and sees the same cloud 
sail across the moon. In imitation of Washington 
Irving, at the very inn which he has immortalized, 
we sat and told stories till midnight. Mr. Hall gave 
us a vivid picture of a night in the Black Forest. 
Others followed with such as they had to offer. At 
ten o'clock Jeanie began a Romance of the Via 
Appia y which flowed on till midnight without a 
pause, and without any abatement of interest in the 
audience. The Improvisitore himself could not 
have improvised better ; but how much of her 
inspiration was due to her occupation of Washing- 
ton Irving's chair, I do not pretend to know. 



238 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Telling stories at Terracina, however, is not getting 
on toward Naples. An early breakfast, and we 
are away, through the great gateway in the rock, 
up an imcomparable valley — wheat-fields every- 
where alternating with orchards and vineyards, 
houses embowered with roses, long avenues of ever- 
greens leading to picturesque churches and con- 
vents, ruined arches bestriding mountain streams, 
substructions of ancient villas and palaces of which 
no one knows the owners. At Sant' Agata we 
sleep the third night — a beastly and beggardiy 
huddle of dilapidated houses. Fondi is not much 
better. Itri is still fragrant with the fame of Fra 
Diavolo. Every human kennel along this road has 
some frightful legend of banditti and their doings. 
Cicero's monument stands upon the very spot, it is 
supposed, where he was murdered. We dined at 
his Formian Villa, and plucked grapes from the 
vines in his garden. Capua is a faded beauty in 
tattered apparel, sitting at the gate of her vineyards. 
But why tarry among these ? Yonder smokes 
Vesuvius — a peerless sultan ; and Napoli la bella sits 
■ — a gay sultana — at his feet ! 

But of Naples, Vesuvius, and the Buried Cities, I 
need not write, have written elsewhere, and others 
have written better. A fortnight in the Sorrentine 
promontory, with a transit of Monte Sant' Angelo, 
visits to La Cava, Salerno, Amalfi, Gragnana, Castel 
a Mare, and many another Paradise, was a period of 
absolute enchantment, about which, even after 
thirty-three years, I can hardly trust myself to write. 
The Campania Felix is still worthy of its name. 



NORTHWARD AND WESTWARD. 



239 



XLVI. NORTHWARD AND WESTWARD. 

RETURNING to Rome, we took up our quarters in 
the rooms just vacated by Mrs. Stowe and her 
friends. The floor above was occupied by a Flor- 
entine family with whom we had become pleasantly 
acquainted during the carnival. Our padrona, 
Margarita, was a gentle and genial little soul who 
did her utmost to make us more than comfortable. 
She was intelligent and sprightly, with more than 
ordinary appreciation of art, and jewels fell spark- 
ling from her pretty lips. No wonder Mrs. Stowe 
had taken these apartments. 

In Italy, when you ring at the door, you are 
hailed from within with the question, " Qui " 
Who is there? to which you answer, " Apiico" — 
Friend. Without this formality you will not be 
admitted. When Margarita asked the question, I 
was accustomed to respond, " Ladro" — Thief. 
One night, about eleven o'clock, coming home in 
profound meditation on what I had seen, I rang the 
bell, and heard the usual " Qui e? " in a voice 
evidently not our padrona's. As afore time, how- 
ever, I replied, " Ladro." The door did not open. 
I waited awhile, and rang again. The challenge 
was repeated, and so was my response. Then the 
door opened, and I entered. There was no light in 
the corridor. A man on each side seized me by the 
arm, and marched me into a ■ brilliantly lighted 
room full of people. I had gone one flight of stairs 
too high. These were the quarters of our Floren- 



240 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



tine friends. With a merry laugh, one of the gen- 
tlemen exclaimed, " Tropo di vino Signore! " Too 
much wine, sir. Too much wine was not the right 
interpretation of the mistake ; but none the less 
they enjoyed my manifest confusion. In mingled 
French and Italian, I tried to explain, but made 
the matter worse. With the best apology I was 
capable of, I bowed myself backward out of the 
place, and never afterward said " Ladro" when I 
meant " Amico" 

Mrs. M. renewed her kindness, and we rapidly 
explored "the Historic City" and its classical 
environs. Too soon, alas ! it was over and ended, 
and we departed with the painful conviction that 
we had only just begun to see Rome. Northward 
we journeyed, up the Tiber, toward the Umbrian 
Hills — past Isola Farnesa, and the shattered ruins 
of Veii — past Monte Soracte, that great pyramid of 
lapis-lazuli at which we had gazed so often — past 
Civita Castelana, with its huge antiquities, and 
legends of Camillus, and the schoolmaster — past 
Otricoli, where in 1780 were found the fine mosaic 
floor and colossal head of Jupiter now seen in the 
Vatican — past Narni, whose gates and ramparts are 
scarred with ancient battle wounds, while the 
fragment of its old Augustan bridge still braves the 
force of the Tiber — past Terni, and the cataract of 
the Velino, the noblest water-fall in Italy, plunging 
over a precipice of more then a thousand feet — past 
the fountain of the Clitumus, bursting from the base 
of the mountain, a full grown river at its birth, 
graced with a beautiful temple of white marble which 



NORTHWARD AND WESTWARD. 



241 



stood there in the days of Pliny — past Assisi, where 
Saint Francis lived and died, and numerous memen- 
toes of the "Seraphic Father " are still to be seen in 
the convent and the churches — past Perugia, with 
its Etruscan tombs, and Etruscan gates, and mas- 
sive towers of uncemented travertine, enthroned 
upon the hill where it sat before Rome began to 
rise — past Lake Thrasimenas, where, two hundred 
and seventeen years before the Prince of Peace was 
born, the wily Carthagenian triumphed over Roman 
valor, and the Sanguinetta flows through fields of 
blood-red poppies that flourish on the graves of 
the slain — past Cortona, and Arrezo, and Levane, 
and other interesting places, some containing ruins 
as old as Troy, others fragrant with the fame of 
poets, artists, sages and heroes, till at last we look 
down from the blooming hills upon Florence and 
the Arno. 

Here we spent a month amidst the most beauti- 
ful things in the world. During that month, we 
witnessed the grand luminaria at Pisa, and spent a 
night of rare experiences at Livorno. Then we 
proceeded northward, crossing the Apennines at a 
point from which we could see the Adriatic in the 
east and the Mediterranean in the west. Bologna, 
with its leaning towers, and arcaded streets, and 
famous university, was worth more than the four 
days we gave to it. Ferrara, with its palace, and its 
prison, and all its sad memorials of Torquato Tasso, 
preached eloquently to our hearts, and elicited many 
a sigh of vain sympathy for the poet. But I have 
told the story elsewhere, and will not repeat it here. 



242 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



He who has not seen Lago di Como, and the 
Borromean Islands of Lago Maggiore, must not 
speak to me of beauty. We spent a Sunday in 
Domo d'Ossola, and climbed its Calvary, and heard 
the music of its convent bells, which still haunt the 
soul like visions and voices of another world. 
Crossing the Simplon, gazing alternately up at the 
glittering domes of crystal and down into the fright- 
ful gloom of the Gondo and the Saltine, furnished 
the best lesson on the sublime that ever fell to our 
experience. The thoughts and feelings awakened by 
such a view, no art nor language can convey to 
another. It was like looking, now through the 
open pearl-gates of Heaven, now into the yawning 
mouth of Hell. 

Hence, down the beautiful valley of the Rhone, 
between walls built by the Almighty, we pass a 
number of places rich with historic interest. Scenes 
of cruelty and of heroism have been enacted here, 
which are recorded on high. Sion covers a conical 
hill, and seems a pyramid of houses. At Martigni 
stands a Roman tower, perchance two thousand 
years old. Donkeys carry us over the Forclaz and 
the Tete Noir. The forest of larches is imperial. 
The mountains are savage, and the ravines terrible. 
The Cascade de Barbarine appears to pour over 
the outer wall of heaven into an orifice which 
shows nothing but a horizontal rainbow at the bot- 
tom. 

Here occurs a scene worthy of special record — one 
of those spiritual recognitions which give prophetic 
insight of the enfranchised soul — two minds instanta- 



NORTHWARD AND WESTWARD. 



243 



neously photographing each other as by a flash of 
lightning. We are dining at one table, an English 
couple at another. No sooner do the two ladies see 
each other, than they rise, rush together, and swear 
eternal friendship. Such instinctive perception of 
character belongs only to angels and women. 
Never between two men did the twinkling of an eye 
suffice for an acquaintance and an everlasting cov- 
enant. Our instantaneous friends went one way, 
we the other ; but the compact and confluence of 
souls, I think, will survive all separation. 

A little farther on, we reach the summit of the 
pass. Here stand half-a-dozen crosses, praying for 
the safety of the traveller. Our guide admonishes 
us not to speak aloud, lest our voices should invite 
the avalanche. Before beginning the descent, we 
dismiss our donkeys, and take to wheels. Our Jehu 
appears to have had too much beer. A few hair's 
breadths more would have thrown us over a prec- 
ipice of nearly a thousand feet. I take the reins 
and do the driving for which that rascal gets the 
pay. His own neck in place of ours, I am not sure 
that I would have done it. But with what rapidity 
we descend that mountain, and leave all danger in 
our rear, makes me giddy to remember. 

A new world bursts into view before us. On our 
right and left rise the glorious aiguilles into the 
eternal azure. As far as the eye can reach, we 
trace the glittering Mer de Glace, up among the 
golden summits. Right in front of us, with the 
Glacier de Boisson gleaming at his base, stands in 
peerless majesty Mount Blanc — a great watch 



244 



DAYS OP MY YEARS. 



tower on the boundary wall of the world — the mon- 
arch of the Alps, crowned with a wreath of clouds 
that seems as solid as his throne. And this pretty 
little cup of emerald at our feet — is this the vale of 
Chamouni we have been dreaming of so long? 
And this tall white house relieved against its dark 
background of firs — is this where we are to be im- 
paradised for a week, communing with God in the 
midst of his own garden ? 

The week is ended. We have trodden the Brevent, 
the Flegere, the Montan Vert, the fields of eternal 
ice. From many an elevation, we have looked 
upon the cloudless brow of Mount Blanc, till its 
form and features are ineffacebly branded on the 
brain. We have seen an avalanche thundering 
down the steep, leaping from precipice to precipice, 
sweeping rocks and trees in its course. And now, 
not without reluctance, we are away for Geneva 
What a fine help to our comprehension of the 
Alpine system is that great panstereorama which we 
meet with by the way! How beautiful are the 
cerulean waters of Lake Leman ! how memorable 
the visit to Vevay and the Castle of Chillon ! 
Thence, by way of Neuf chattel, over the Jura, 
down the Rhine, to Frankfort and Heidelberg, to 
Paris, London, and Somersetshire, completes our 
tour of Europe. 

All day, alone and full of tender memories, I had 
wandered over the Mendip Hills and through the 
fields of Lympsham, retracing the footsteps of my 
childhood, and identifying a hundred objects dear 
to my heart. The sun was sinking in the sea, paving 



NORTHWARD AND WESTWARD. 



with gold the way over the waters by which I was 
soon to return co my western home. I sat under the 
elms on a flowery hill-side, and thanked God for all 
his goodness to the wanderer. I was losing my- 
self in sweet and holy thoughts, when the sound of 
the Burnham bells, which I had not heard for thirty- 
two years, came wafted on the evening air, like a 
far-off angel melody. It was a wedding peal, mel- 
lowed by distance, and soft as the whispered song 
of love. Like summer rain into the thirsty earth, 
it melted into my soul and awakened the following 
response : 

XLVII. THE BURNHAM BELLS. 

The Burnham bells ! the Burnham bells ! 

I heard them when a boy. 
As churchward o'er the flowery field 

I sped with eager joy : 
My faith, my love, my worship then, 

Were gold without alloy. 

And when o'er Berrow's shining sand 

We tripped so blithe and gay, 
Or climbed Brent Knoll's embattled crest 

To crown the queen of May, 
How rose and fell the tuneful change 

That charmed us on our way ! 

And when the bridal bloom bedecked 

Our fair young cousin's brow, 
And at the holy rail she knelt 

To seal the nuptial vow, 
How pealed the joyous Burnham bells, 

As they are pealing now ! 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



And when the merry Christmas eve 

Shed gladness everywhere, 
And youthful glee made sober age 

Unmindful of its care, 
What wreaths of harmony they wove 

Upon the wintry air ! 

And when the New Year's feast of joy, 
With memories fond and true, 

Together to their childhood's home 
The dear ones promptly drew, 

How rang they out the good old year 
And welcomed in the new ! 

Ah me ! how many cheerful chimes, 

How many muffled knells, 
How many gladsome gatherings, 

How many sad farewells, 
Since last I listened to your lay, 

Ye mellow Burnham bells ! 

Afar in foreign climes to stray 

Became my early doom ; 
And joy has languished at my side, 

And love has lost its bloom ; 
And beauty, valued more than life, 

Has vanished in the tomb. 

I've lost the light elastic step, 
My locks are whitening now, 

And Care his cruel lines has left 
Engraven on my brow ; 

And where is youthful innocence ? 
And where, sweet Hope, art thou ? 

The house where first I hailed the day 
Through blinding tears I view, 

The wood that clothed the winding vale, 
The brook that murmured through, 



NORTHWARD AND WESTWARD. 



The fountain whence the fresh young soul 
Its draughts of wisdom drew, 

How oft along this fragrant bank 

I wandered wild and free ! 
How oft in boyish games engaged 

Around yon ancient tree ! 
But where are all the little feet 

That ranged these fields with me ? 

The primrose and the violet 

Which then the hedge perfumed, 

The daisy and the buttercup, 

Still bloom as erst they bloomed ; 

But she for whom I gathered them 
Was long ago entombed. 

The mound that marked the grave is gone, 

The place is seldom shown, 
And moss has quite obscured the name, 

Recorded on the stone ; 
But that sweet voice, ye Burnham bells, 

Returns in your sweet tone. 

Like lute-notes on the evening air, 

Like songs o'er summer seas, 
Like angel anthems echoing 

Among the murmuring trees, 
Your mingled music, wave on wave, 

Comes wafted by the breeze. 

Like heavenly spirits hovering 

With healing in their wings, 
The swelling rondo, clear and full, 

A gladsome message brings ; 
Then, softly sinking, dies away, 

As from asolian strings. 



248 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



The nightingale adown the glade 

No lovelier story tells ; 
Nor seraph symphony, I ween, 

The soothing power excels 
Of your far-floating melody, 

Ye blessed Burnham bells. 

Ring on ! your festal roundelay 

Turns back the wheel of time ; 
Ring on ! my Eden blooms afresh 

Beneath your holy chime ; 
Ring on ! the bridal of the Lamb 

Is in your song sublime ! 

Ring on, when other sounds are hushed, 

And life's last tie is riven ! 
Ring on, when round the opening grave 

The words of hope are given ! 
Ring on, till o'er a soul redeemed 

Ring out the bells of heaven ! 

XLVIII. ON THE POTOMAC. 

PASSING over three years and a half, in which lit- 
tle of consequence occurred, I come now to the war 
of secession. With the political questions involved, 
I have no concern. Autobiography is personal nar- 
rative, and I confine myself to facts of my own ob- 
servation and experience, which I shall set down, 
if possible, without partiality or prejudice. 

Fort Sumter had fallen. A number of the states 
had seceded. In their right, moral and political, to 
secede, they thoroughly believed. This was no 
new doctrine, but honestly held from the begin- 
ning. Tennessee was solidly one with her seceded 



ON THE POTOMAC. 



249 



sisters. If there were a few dissenters, they were 
Northern men, or men whose interests lay on that 
side of the line. To the President's demand for 
troops, Governor Harris replied: " Not a man for 
coercion : for defence, if necessary, fifty thousand." 
The excitement was intense and all pervading. 
With some it was a patriotic impulse ; with others, a 
religious enthusiasm. To maintain their rights, 
protect their homes, and secure their property, they 
were ready for any sacrifice, " to the last of their 
blood and their breath." The partisan rhetoric 
which denounces them all as traitors and criminals 
is no less absurd than unchristian. Men of un- 
doubted truth, unquestioned honor, unimpeachable 
virtue, do not in a day become villains deserving 
the halter. Such men there were in the South — men 
of sound mind, and fine culture, and faultless moral- 
ity, and profound religious faith — in these qualities, 
inferior to none in the North, or in any country 
under heaven — who honestly supported secession. 
Had they succeeded, the very persons who now de- 
nounce them for all that is vile and infamous would 
probably have applauded their patriotism and ac- 
corded them immortal renown. 

I was stationed in Gallatin, a few miles north of 
Nashville. Colonel Bates was raising a regiment 
there, the Second Tennessee. All the younger men 
of my charge enlisted. They were ordered to 
Virginia. The Colonel soon wrote me of their 
unanimous desire that I should become their chap- 
lain. He had already obtained from Richmond a 
commission for me. " I conferred not with flesh 



250 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



and blood," but went immediately to my work. 
Never so much as now, did those young men need 
the Gospel. I found them at Aquia Creek, on the 
lower Potomac. Arriving Saturday night, I preached 
Sunday morning on the words of St. Peter in the 
house of Cornelius — Acts x. 29 : " Therefore came 
I unto you as soon as I was sent for ; I ask there- 
fore for what intent ye have sent for me." The de- 
sire to have a chaplain, I said, indicated a desire for 
at least the outward forms of religion. Religion 
was covenant and communion with God. It was 
more than a creed and a ritual. It was a life, a 
habit, a spiritual growth. More than half of these 
men were Christians. They had brought their 
Bibles and their Savior with them. They wanted 
worship and instruction here as much as at home. 
Nowhere was religion more necessary than in the 
army. Our new relations were fraught with new 
temptations and dangers. If at home we could not 
live without God, how could we here ? Daily 
prayer, perpetual watchfulness, the constant, refer- 
ence of this great controversy to the Divine Wis- 
dom and Goodness, were the manifest duties of sol- 
diers. To aid them in these duties I was here. I 
had come to help them lead a Christian life and die 
a Christian death. Loyalty to Christ and his king- 
dom was the highest concern of all. Whatever was 
unworthy of a Christian, was unsuitable to a sol- 
dier. The best friend to his country was the man 
who was true to his God. Drunkenness, sensuality, 
profane swearing, and every form of irreverence, 
were utterly incompatible with good soldiership. 



ON THE POTOMAC. 



251 



We must trust in the Lord of hosts, carefully avoid 
all that would offend him, invoke his guidance and 
blessing upon our officers, and endeavor to lead 
such a life as should commend Christianity to all 
observers. Then, whatever the issue of the conflict, 
we should be safe, and God would be glorified. 
These thoughts I amplified and enforced with all 
my energy. 

I proceeded to organize a choir. We had a good 
brass band, at once our church bell and organ, ad- 
ding much to the interest of public worship. I in- 
stituted a Bible-class, which came on Monday night 
' to my tent to study the Word of God. Four nights 
in the week, so long as we were quiet in camp, we 
held a prayer meeting in the same place. The at- 
tendance was always large, and often the Colonel 
and some of his staff were present. In these meet- 
ings many young men began their Christian career, 
and the result was the best sort of a revival without 
any of the ordinary routine or excitement. One of 
our Gallatin boys, as guileless as Nathaniel, used to 
pray: "O Lord, bless our little Confederacy, and 
protect our flag. We have only a few stars and a 
few bars ; but may those stars never grow dim, and 
those bars never be taken down." 

Our regiment was the first that attempted the 
blockade of the lower Potomac. The batteries on 
the other side, and the gun-boats that came up the 
river, frequently threw shells into our camp. The 
boys, in competition, at first, ran to seize them as 
they fell ; but the explosion of one in the hands of 
the foremost competitor, tearing the poor fellow in 



252 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



pieces, made that sort of amusement unpopular. 
When another of these terrible missiles shattered a 
pine tree near the colonel's tent, I heard an officer 
exclaim : " Honest Abe is still splitting rails." 
When another went whistling over our heads and 
fell far in our rear, some one said : " He seems to 
be in quest of a quarter-master." One morning, 
soon after my arrival, as I rode into a stream to 
water my horse, a broad-tongued Hibernian, addres- 
sing me as " Father," desired to know whether I 
" maintained confession of a Sunday morning in the 
camp," adding : " It's meself that'll be there nixt 
Sunday: me sins are throubling the conscience of 
me, an' there's no telling whin one of thim shills '1 
take the soul out of a mon." Another, passing 
barefoot in front of my tent, stepped on a sharp 
stone, and unguardedly gave utterance to an oath. 
I cautioned him to beware of the bad words. 
" Faith, an' if I'd knowed yer riverence was so 
near," he replied, " I wouldn't have said it." I re- 
minded him that God was nearer than I. To which 
he answered : " I know that too, your riverence ; 
but there's a tindher place here at the bottom of 
me fut that's a little nearer than either of yez." 

This man belonged to an Irish company in the 
regiment, who, with the quick instinct of their 
countrymen, were prompt to perceive the ludicrous 
point of every incident, and draw mirth even from 
misfortune. One night they were unusually hilari- 
ous ; and " suffering for a fight," they got up "a bit 
of a scrimmage" among themselves, resulting in 
some bloody noses and broken skulls. Suspecting 



ON THE POTOMAC. 



253 



the cause, the colonel instituted a search, and found 
a large demijohn of whiskey, which they had smug- 
gled into their quarters. He ordered the contraband 
beverage carried to his own tent. The next morn- 
ing, in making up the beds, the colored boys broke 
the demijohn, and the liquor was seeking its level 
in its own way. A passing Irishman saw the situa- 
tion, and exclaimed : " What a pity! what a pity ! 
Have yeh niver a booket, a booket, a booket, in the 
tint ? " Seizing the cover of a tin-pail, he scooped it 
full, saying: " I'll be afther saving a dhrap of this 
same! " Then, tossing it off as if it had been only 
so much water, he smacked his lips and rubbed his 
hands, exclaiming ; "An' now, Misther Lincum, it's 
this paddy that's riddy for yez intirely ! " 

Sunday morning, the twenty-first of July, the sun 
rose bright and clear. Who could have dreamed of 
the terrible work to be done on that day of the Son 
of Man ? From Aquia Creek we had been ordered 
to Manassas. There lay the Confederate forces, in 
line of battle seven or eight miles long, on the west 
side of Bull Run. The Federal army, twice their 
number, were advancing from Centreville. There 
was a hush in the air, like that which precedes the 
thunder-gust. About nine o' clock the storm burst 
upon us, with a crash that shook the earth and 
startled heaven. Affrighted swallows in myriads sat 
consulting on the telegraph wires. The artillery 
was heard thirty and forty miles away in different 
directions. Till three o'clock the terrible music 
continued without abatement. The line of battle 
oscillated, now advancing, now receding, as the 



254 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



hours passed on. At several points the Confederate 
front had been pressed back by the impetuous onset 
of the foe. The men were becoming exhausted, and 
the issue of the day was doubtful. At this crisis, 
reinforcements from the west were seen descending 
upon the field. With new vigor the men rallied, and 
sent a cheeering shout along the line. It was heard 
amidst the rattle of musketry and the roar of 
artillery. The tide of battle was turned. The 
enemy recognized their defeat, and fled in wild dis- 
order. The well ordered ranks of war at once be- 
came a scene of confusion worse confounded. The 
roads were choked with fugitives. Men and horses 
struggled together in death. Wagons, caissons, and 
gun-carriages, rolled over the dying and the dead. 
Whole regiments cast away arms and haversacks, 
and ran for life. The wounded and fallen appealed 
in vain for help ; no man thought of his fellow. 
Here and there an officer bravely tried to arrest the 
flight ; he might as well have shouted to the tem- 
pest, or withstood the mountain torrent. On 
rushed the frenzied thousands, trampled and tramp- 
ling, while the leaden rain and iron hail fell upon 
them in a perpetual storm. The battle had been 
well planned and well fought on both sides; and the 
Federal defeat showed neither want of skill nor want 
of courage. The dire necessity of retreat was upon 
them ; and " all that a man hath will he give for his 
life," is true if it was uttered by the ancient liar. 
But the scenes which I saw at the battle of Man- 
assas, O my God, let me never see again ! 

With a large detachment, we returned to the 



SHILOH AND CORINTH. 



255 



Potomac. We sat down near Dumfries. We 
planted batteries along the river-banks. We played 
them bravely upon every gun-boat that attempted 
to pass up or down. Several vessels defying the 
blockade, were captured and hauled into the " old 
Virginia shore." And here we remained during the 
rest of the summer, and I revived my Bible class, 
and restored my prayer meetings, and preached 
many sermons in camp, and made many excursions 
through the surrounding country, and for eight 
months and more the Confederate pickets could 
sing: 

" All quiet along the Potomac to-night." 

XLIX. SHILOH AND CORINTH. 

In the opening spring — 1862 — we were ordered 
to West Tennessee. At Huntsville, unsuspicious of 
peril, I tarried a little too long. My command had 
gone forward by rail, and I was to follow on horse- 
back. While enjoying the fellowship of dear old 
friends, certain indications alarmed me, and hastened 
my departure. I rode westward, intending to cross 
the Tennessee River at Florence. Having gone 
twenty miles, I learned that the Federal troops were 
in Huntsville, and the bridge at Florence was 
burned. My only chance was the railway bridge at 
Decatur. I reversed my course, and took the short- 
est route. The approach of the bridge was by a 
lofty embankment for a mile, terminating in a 
trestle of half a mile more. Outside of the track 
on one side, were two planks — part of the way but 



256 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



one, perchance 18 inches wide. Along this perilous 
highway to life and liberty, above the tops of the 
trees, trotted my trusty barb, with far less fear than 
her rider. It was the most frightful adventure of 
my life ; and now, as I write of it, the gray hair 
rises upon my head. Enemy behind, engine per- 
haps before, I had no time to lose. Committing 
myself to God, I spurred on, and passed the bridge. 
At the west end, it had been fired, but failed to 
burn. An hour later, it was in flames, and all be- 
yond was in the hands of the foe. With thankful 
heart, I rode forward to Tuscumbia, preached to 
encourage and comfort my friends, and spent the 
night with one of them on La Grange Mountain. 

A telegram from the front informed us that the 
two armies were looking at each other across the 
river at Pittsburg Landing. We knew what that 
meant. Any moment the battle might begin. 
Next morning, at earliest dawn, we were in saddle. 
Descending the mountain, we got intelligence that 
the enemy had crossed the river. We hastened to 
be present at the opening of the fray. About noon 
we caught the heavy pulsings of the air, like the 
throbs of a smothered earthquake. A few miles 
farther, while the battle-thunder waxed louder and 
louder, we received the most incredible accounts of 
a Confederate victory and utter rout of the enemy. 
Our horses were bathed in foam, but we encouraged 
them to a brisker pace. Night and silence fell 
upon us before we reached the scene. Only now 
and then a shot from the gunboats on the river 
bade us beware of our course. -A thunder-storm 



SHILOH AND CORINTH-. 



257 



swept the battle-field, drenching the living and the 
dead. All that we could learn that night was, that 
our army had gained a great victory, and driven the 
foe nobody knew whither. Subsequent facts, how- 
ever, showed some eight or ten thousand cowering 
in mortal terror beneath the bluffs. Fresh troops 
were hastening forward to their relief. With the 
dawn the conflict was renewed, the Confederates 
were driven back over the ground they had so 
bravely won, and the second day ended in a disas- 
trous retreat to Corinth. 

Here the Southern forces entrenched themselves ; 
and the invaders, though far more numerous, dared 
not advance. Both had fought bravely and suffered 
severely ; and their respective losses, perhaps, were 
about equal. On the first day fell General Albert 
Sidney Johnson, and many another gallant officer 
received the reward of his valor. My own regiment 
entered the field a thousand strong, and two-thirds 
fell at the first onset. This fact, I suppose, gave 
origin to the report that I perished in the battle. 
The statement published by Wm. G. Brownlow was 
to the effect, that our colonel being shot down, I 
took his place, and led on the regiment, till I fell 
dead upon the field. A little too much glory for 
one who was not there to claim it ; and I here an- 
nounce to all interested in the fact, that I did not 
die at Shiloh. 

This terrible two-days conflict was in effect only a 
drawn battle. For the next twenty-two days there 
was no advance nor demonstration from either side. 
Then General Halleck took command of the Federal 



258 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



forces, and began a forward movement. But he ad- 
vanced very slowly and cautiously, throwing up 
strong entrenchments as he proceeded, to which he 
might fall back in case of necessity. General Sher- 
man's division alone entrenched seven successive 
camps ; the other divisions perhaps as many. The 
whole great army, having recently won what was 
vaunted as a splendid victory, was eighteen days in 
creeping a few miles toward the foe they feared to 
meet. What Napoleonic generalship ! What more 
than Spartan valor ! But now they are within two 
hundred yards of the rebel works. We shall soon 
witness the grand combined attack. How the earth 
will shake, and the heavens will roar! But, my 
very prudent friends ! don't be too rash, and expose 
needlessly your precious lives! A tentative gun or 
two, to feel the foe before you move another inch ! 
"Bang!" " Thunder!" Lo, there is no response! 
Not a rebel shows himself ! Had you not better go 
and see whether your terrible antagonists are there ? 
Those Quaker guns you have been looking at so 
long with field-glasses from tree-tops will not go off. 
Burnt logs never do. The great columns of smoke 
you saw — the loud explosions, as of whole parks of 
artillery — the dare-devil pickets, that played their 
pretty antics in your front, and promptly disap- 
peared — the twenty-five skirmishers on your left 
flank, that made you shift so often, and dig so many 
ditches — the twelve sharpshooters, pointing their 
rifles through the chink-holes of the log house on 
the ridge, multiplied by the arithmetic of terror 
into a formidable battalion — these all were contrived 



SHILOH AND CORINTH. 



259 



for your amusement. The army, tired of waiting 
for you, left in disgust some weeks ago ; and are 
now three hundred miles away, preparing for you 
another sort of entertainment. 

After all these gigantic efforts the only achiev- 
ment I heard of was the capture of a rebel captain, 
of our own shattered regiment. On the first day of 
Shiloh, he had lost his whole company. His 
brother had fallen. He had gone to Memphis for 
a casket, in which to send home the body for burial. 
Returning to Corinth, he was captured. The officer 
put him in charge of two Dutch soldiers. They led 
him to a thick tree, and sat down with him in the 
shade. He gave them whiskey from his canteen, 
and soon they were serenely happy. Seizing one of 
their guns, he mounted the tree, where he was 
entirely concealed. In the evening twilight, the 
officer returned for his prisoner, swore fiercely at the 
Dutchmen, and told them they should be shot. 
He sent his squad in every direction, and rode in 
widening circles around the tree, but never once 
looked up into its foliage. The men returned, 
declaring that they had examined every nook and 
hiding place within a mile. The captain sat perched 
above them, and heard their report. It was night, 
and the case was hopeless. The whole squad 
departed, with the two Dutchmen in arrest, and the 
commander cursing bitterly. As soon as they were 
out of hearing, my friend descended, wended his 
way southward through the forest, and a week later 
told me the story in Columbus. 

While the captain was enjoying these perilous 



26o 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



exploits, I had a critical experience from another 
quarter. En route for Columbus, my plan was to 
pause at Aberdeen, and rest a few days with Bishop 
Paine. It was Friday, the sun was near his setting, 
and I was weary with my journey. Passing a negro 
hoeing corn, I called him to the fence, and inquired 
whether there was any place three or four miles 
farther on where I would be likely to find lodging 
for the night. Yes, it was three miles to Mr. 
Riley's, but he lived a mile off the road to the 
right. I went on, and was most kindly entertained 
by an excellent Christian family. After a comfort- 
able night and an early breakfast, I proceeded to 
Aberdeen, arriving at the Bishop's about midday. 
The good man received me gladly, and gave me a 
pillow on the lounge in his library. He sat down 
by my side, and spoke of the Wing-and-Wing, then 
of the war and war ; and our two hearts flowed 
together, cemented by holy memories. While thus 
engaged, there was a call at the door, and the Bish- 
op went out. Through the window I saw him 
talking with four men on horseback. Soon he came 
back, with a smile, saying : " Doctor, come out ; 
these gentlemen want to see you." I promptly 
obeyed the summons. The Bishop said : " Gentle- 
men, this is my friend Dr. Cross, chaplain in the 
Confederate Army." The foremost rider, with a 
coil of rope on the horn of his saddle, began an 
apologetic discourse : " You passed my house yes- 
terday in a blue coat ; I thought that suspicious. 
You stopped to talk with my negro in the corn- 
field ; that looked more suspicious. You went a 



SHILOH AND CORINTH. 



26l 



mile off your road to spend the night ; that con- 
firmed my suspicion. I called these three neighbors 
of mine together, and told them these facts. We 
were all of the same opinion, that you were a Yan- 
kee spy. We agreed to follow you, and hang you 
if we could catch you. I am glad we did not over- 
take you before you reached Aberdeen. Be 
assured, sir, we are sorry for our mistake, and very 
much ashamed of ourselves." I replied, that on the 
grounds of my talking with the boy and leaving the 
road for the night, their suspicion was somewhat 
natural and their pursuit quite pardonable ; but 
as to the other ground, they ought to have known 
that no Yankee spy would wear a blue coat in the 
South ; and if they had overhauled me on the road, 
and strung me up to an oak-limb, the fear of a blue- 
tailed fly would have haunted them to their 
graves!" " Gentlemen," added the Bishop, " Dr. 
Cross will preach for us to-morrow ; and if you will 
remain and hear him, I shall be glad to entertain 
you, and you will not regret your trip." The cap- 
tain of the expedition accepted the invitation, but 
the others rode away chagrined and grumbling. As 
we left the church the next day, the Bishop said — 
" Doctor, you are called to preach ! " and his guest 
added — "Thank God, that we could not catch him 
yesterday ! " He gave me the rope he had brought 
for me, and I hung* it to my saddle-bow as a memo- 
rial. 



262 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



L. HOSPITAL WORK. 

PHYSICALLY and spiritually refreshed, I proceeded 
to Columbus. Here was work to be done. Here 
were hundreds of wounded men — maimed, and 
mangled, and disabled, and suffering, in every con- 
ceivable form. Here lay the remnant of our unfor- 
tunate regiment, some of them dying every day. 
From ward to ward, and from couch to couch, I 
went, with the best medicine ever administered to 
human misery — the word of grace — the promise of 
mercy — the comfortable assurance of salvation. 
Entering a room full of suffering men, I stood in 
their midst, read a few sayings of Jesus, talked 
about ten minutes, then knelt down and prayed, 
and afterward passed from one to another till I had 
spoken privately to all, giving every individual such 
counsel and encouragement as his case seemed to 
require. I made from fifteen to twenty of these 
calls in a day, repeating the program with varia- 
tions. If ever I enjoyed my work, I enjoyed it 
now. If ever I gathered the fruit of former sowing, 
I gathered it now. The instruction I had given in 
the Bible class and the prayer meeting came back 
in sevenfold benediction. The bread cast upon the 
w r ater along the Potomac was found here after 
many days. Scores of these poor boys were rejoic- 
ing in the love of Jesus. Some of them, trusting, I 
accompanied into the valley of the shadow of 
death. Now and then I committed one, triumph- 
ing, into the blessed hands that were spiked to the 



HOSPITAL WORK. 



263 



cross. " As the days of Heaven upon the earth," 
were these days among the dying in Columbus. 

And many an instance of calm fortitude or heroic 
endurance which I witnessed here furnished a lesson 
for a lifetime. I saw limbs cut off, while the patient 
sat motionless and watched the process. I saw a 
section of the skull removed, and a minie ball taken 
from the brain. I saw a man's teeth extracted 
from the back of his neck whither the missile had 
driven them. I saw a silk handkerchief pressed 
into a bullet-wound in the breast, pulled out at the 
back, and then drawn to and fro to cleanse the gory 
orifice. One of our Tennessee lads had a foot 
frightfully shattered. The surgeon came to ampu- 
tate it. " No ! " said the soldier; " I shall want it 
again ; you will see me walking on it some day." 
" That is impossible!" replied the surgeon; " the 
bones are mashed to pieces ; you can never recover 
its use ; and, ten chances to one, you will die of 
gangrene." " Then let me die a whole man, not a 
fragment ! " rejoined the young hero ; " but I am 
not going to die; I shall walk on that foot again." 
" That is the stuff that makes the soldier ! " said 
the surgeon, as he gathered up his instruments ; " if 
any thing can save him, it is that will of his." Four 
months later, I saw him at Chickamauga, walking 
as well as ever, and fighting like Achilles ! 

I remained here a month, and met the Mississippi 
Conference. The reunion of old friends was full of 
comfort ; and some new ones were added to my 
list, " whose names are in the book of life." Spe- 
cial mention must be made of Dr. P. P. Neely, the 



264 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Mississippi Chrysostom, who had charge of the 
church in Columbus, and treated me with brotherly 
urbanity. I preached frequently in his pulpit, and 
listened to a number of his sermons. They were 
read, but with a peculiar grace. His voice — the 
like of which I do not remember — was a tenor, with, 
the quality of the clarionet. His words were well 
chosen, and his sentences as musical as Cicero's. 
There was a rich flow of thought, like the mountain 
brook banked with flowers. H<s was exceedingly 
popular. Whoever heard him once, desired to hear 
him again ; and the oftener they heard, the more 
were they delighted. From Columbus he went to 
Mobile, where he soon finished his course in holy 
peace. 

LI. jeanie's tribulations. 

General Bragg was now in command of the 
army. Ordered to report to General Donaldson, I 
became chaplain of his brigade. We began the long 
and bootless march into Kentucky. Through Ala- 
bama and Georgia, wayworn and weary, we arrived 
at Chattanooga, crossed the Tennessee River, and 
marched one day along the base of the Cumberland 
Mountains. Tidings came of my family's advent in 
Chattanooga. It was the first news I had heard 
from them in a year. With leave of the general, I 
rode back twenty miles to greet them. Having but 
little money, a Nashville neighbor handed me three 
hundred dollars — not a loan, but a gift. Jeanie 
was exceedingly glad to see me, and there were 



JEANIE'S TRIBULATIONS. 



265 



tears both of joy and of grief. As soon as she 
could command her feelings sufficiently, she told 
me the story of her tribulations. 

With her two daughters, she had remained at her 
residence in Edgefield, teaching in the Nashville 
Academy, till the fall of Fort Donelson, and the 
occupation of the city by the Federal forces. They 
rifled the house, carried away my library, deprived 
her of her piano, took her horse and carriage, killed 
her cow and her poultry, and devoured her last 
means of subsistence. Then, with her daughters, 
she went to her father's house in Harrodsburg, 
Kentucky. Without any accusation of offence, 
they were all arrested, and ordered to Camp Chase 
in Ohio. Reaching Louisville, the commandant 
there indignantly exclaimed against what he char- 
acterized as an " infamous outrage," and threatened 
with court-martial the officer who had given the 
order. There was no stancher Union man, but 
he was a gentleman and a soldier. 

He ordered them sent through the lines into 
Dixie. They were conveyed to Stevenson, on the 
Tennessee River. There the commandant refused 
to let them pass. He put them, with their bag- 
gage, into a sutler's wagon, to be carried to Hunts- 
ville, thence by railway to Nashville, Louisville, and 
Camp Chase. The sutler drove till evening, and 
stopped in the woods for the night. He gathered 
some fuel, kindled a fire, and spread down blankets 
for his prisoners. Then he climbed into his wagon, 
and soon fell asleep. When they heard him snor- 
ing, they arose and fled toward the Tennessee 



266 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



River. All night they wandered in the woods. At 
daybreak they reached a road at the foot of the 
mountains. Following it, they soon came to a 
house. The family received them kindly, and were 
much affected at their story. Methodists, they 
knew Mrs. Cross by her writings. Mr. Williams — 
that was the name, and there is no need to withhold 
it now — assured the fugitives of perfect safety, and 
would hear not a word of their leaving till thor- 
oughly rested. Quite overcome with night-wander- 
ing and want of sleep, they resolved to remain till 
the next day. 

About three o'clock, while they were at dinner, 
the dog began to bark. Mr. W. looked out, and 
saw a squad of cavalry coming down the road. 
Hastening his guests out by the back door, he led 
them through the thick bushes up the mountain 
side, deposited them in a safe hiding-place, bade 
them remain till he should call them, and then re- 
turned to the house. Invisible themselves, they 
had a good outlook on all below. They saw the 
cavalry, and counted eighteen men. They saw 
them going in and out, walking about in every 
direction, and could not doubt their quest. After 
nightfall, Mr. W. brought them a loaf of bread and 
a cup of butter, with two blankets and a pillow. 
" They are quite sure you have been here," he 
said; "but they think you have gone, and they 
despair of catching you. Keep quiet till I bring 
you word. They will be off early in the morn- 
ing." 

And there sat the fugitives on their blankets 



jeanie's tribulations. 



267 



through that dreary night, and poor little Marianna 
slept with her head upon her mother's lap. A 
thunder shower came over the mountain, and they 
were forced to make a tent of their blankets, but 
were after all well drenched with rain. Something 
was heard creeping through the bushes below. Be- 
lieving it to be a wild beast, they threw stones at it, 
and heard in response the faint cry of a dog. They 
called him, caressed him, and made all sorts of 
apologies to him. It was Mr. W.'s noble New- 
foundlander, who had warned them of the approach 
of their enemies while at dinner. The faithful 
creature had come up to see how his wards were 
faring in the darkness and the storm. He seemed 
to understand the situation, and lay down at their 
feet till morning. 

As day dawned, the men were seen feeding and 
grooming their horses. An hour later, they saddled 
up, and rode back the way they had come. Then 
the fugitives descended, and met Mr. Williams com- 
ing to call them ; and " French," as well as he 
could, with tongue and tail, told his master how 
happy he was in having guarded his guests. The 
good woman gave them a comfortable breakfast, 
and her husband conducted them through the for- 
est toward the Tennessee River, eight miles from 
his residence. Coming to an opening, he said : " I 
must not go farther. That is the direction. You 
will soon reach the river. There are Confederate 
pickets on the other side. They will come and 
fetch you over." Thanking him for all his kindness, 
they went on their way rejoicing; though their 



268 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



dresses were draggled and saturated, and their shoes 
were full of water. 

Reaching the river, no Confederate pickets were 
visible. They walked up the bank, and returned. 
In all directions they looked and listened. They 
sat down, and deliberated what to do. Jeanie 
thought the water was not deep, and might be 
forded. They were about to try, when they heard 
a whistle farther down. Following the bank in that 
direction, they saw on the other side a boat tied to 
a bush. Two soldiers were getting into it. With a 
shout of joy, they hailed the Confederate grey. 
The soldiers took them on board, and in ten min- 
utes they were in Dixie. 

" It is very well, Madame," said one of the young 
men, " you did not i ndertake to ford the river; the 
water here is forty feet deep!" They conducted 
the wayfarers to a camp a quarter of a mile distant, 
an officer sent them forward in an ambulance with 
an escort till they reached the railroad, and so they 
arrived in Chattanooga. Jeanie immediately found 
means of communication with the commandant at 
Stevenson. She informed him how she had passed 
the lines without his aid, exonerated the sutler from 
all blame, and requested that her baggage should 
be forwarded. Promptly her trunks came on, with 
a polite note from the officer. He said she would 
have had no trouble if her husband had not been in 
the rebel army, and added : " Your heroism, Mad- 
ame, merits anything I can do for you ; not to 
recognize it were unworthy of a soldier; a few regi- 
ments of such women would ensure the success of 



INTO KENTUCKY. 



269 



this rebellion! " I gave my wife the three hundred 
dollars, and sent her on to Eatonton, where she 
opened a school for girls, and continued teaching 
till the close of the war. 

LIT. INTO KENTUCKY. 

I HASTENED after the army. Alone, upon the 
Cumberland Mountains, I spent the night. While 
asleep in the woods, a copperhead inserted his fangs 
in the palm of my left hand. The treacherous 
stroke awoke me, and I at once dispatched my 
antagonist. Then I sucked the wound and spat out 
the poison. In the morning, the hand was much 
swollen and very painful. The next evening I over- 
took my command. Half a mile from our bivouac 
was a house, to which I repaired for medication. 
The good lady said the copperhead seldom killed, 
but the "rattler" did, and there were " plenty of 
that sort here about." She applied something to 
allay the burning pain, and bound up the hand with 
a poultice. Very patriotically she spoke of the 
war, and told me her husband was in the Confeder- 
ate army. Accepting her kind invitation, I re- 
mained till morning. When I went out to see my 
horse, I found three other horses in the stable, liber- 
ally supplied with oats from the bin. A darkie said 
they had been placed there during the night, and 
he knew not whose they were. I heard a pistol 
shot, and saw three men in the adjoining grove. 
They came to the house and demanded breakfast. 
The good woman was willing to feed them, but 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



much disturbed at the manner they had taken pos- 
session of her stable and made free with her prov- 
ender. She appealed to me, and I told her I 
would report the case to Gen. Donaldson, who would 
certainly see her righted. 

After breakfast, going out to get my horse, I met 
the marauders at the stable door. I knew them all, 
though they did not recognize me. In a straw hat, 
a blue jersey, and red buckskin pants with side- 
fringes a lindian, I looked but little like a soldier, 
and much less like a chaplain. One of the three 
seized me by the shoulder and began cursing and 
threatening. "You will report us to Gen. Donald- 
son, will you ? " he exclaimed, pulling his pistol 
from his pocket; "do you see that?" "I do," 
said I, pulling my Testament from mine ; "and do 
you see that ? " " What do I care for your book ? " 
he demanded. " Probably as little as I care for 
your pistol," was my response ; " and not half as 
much as you care for Gen. Donaldson. This book 
tells me, that he who fears God needs not fear the 
worst of men ; and no fear of man ever yet deterred 
me from doing my duty." Turning to his compan- 
ions, he exclaimed : " The fellow talks like a 
preacher ! " Then, turning' to me : " Who are you ? 
You seem to be rather independent. Will you 
condescend to give us your name ? " " My name is 
of no possible consequence to you," said I; "but 
your name is of considerable importance to me. If 

I mistake not, you are Mr. M , postmaster at 

N ; and your friends here are Doctor H 

and Lawyer K . It is enough for you to know 



INTO KENTUCKY. 



271 



that I am Gen. Donaldson's chaplain." His hand 
dropped from my shoulder, and he said to his com- 
rades : "Well, gentlemen! we had better let him 
go; he is one of us." "God forbid, sir, that I 
should be one of you ! " was my prompt rejoinder. 
" I disclaim all fellowship with men who are not 
patriotic enough to become soldiers, nor brave 
enough to meet the Yankees at home! who forsake 
their families in the hour of danger, seek safety in 
the shadow of the army, prey upon defenseless 
women, and shake pistols in the face of a one- 
handed man with no weapon but a New Testa- 
ment ! " "I am the devil, if this is not Dr. Cross ! " 
said my assailant. " I shall not deny the name you 
have given me," was my response; "and am quite 
willing to accord to you the one you have chosen for 
yourself ; but if you and your two friends do not go 
and pay this lady liberally for what you have had 
from her oat-bin and her table, you will be arrested 
in half an hour." They accepted the terms, made 
suitable apologies, begged me to say nothing about 
the matter, and I never saw them again during the 
war. Eleven years afterward I met the Doctor in a 
remote city ; when he alluded to the incident, and 
added : " We behaved 1 very badly, sir ; but you 
were rather too much for us, and I was never so 
ashamed of anything in my life." 

Gen. Bragg was famous for military discipline. 
He had issued orders that no depredations should be 
allowed upon the property of citizens, that no sol- 
dier should enter any house or enclosure without 
express permission, and that whatever was taken by 



2J2 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



officers for subsistence should be promptly paid for 
at full market value. All violations of these orders 
were to be severely punished, and I think they 
were strictly enforced in the several divisions of the 
army. Some depredations occurred, no doubt ; 
but they were perpetrated by unprincipled parasites 
such as I have mentioned, not by soldiers. Prob- 
ably this is true, to some extent, of both armies ; 
and most of the outrages for which the soldiers got 
the credit, were committed by men who had no 
other part in the war. The vultures follow the 
troops. 

It was a long march into Kentucky, and often the 
rations were very scanty. I subsisted two days on 
one biscuit, while my faithful Fannie got nothing 
but the grass she cropped by the wayside. One 
evening when several wagon-loads of green corn 
were hauled into camp, I heard a facetious fellow 
proclaiming to his hungry comrades : " O yes ! O 
yes! Come and get your rations of corn to-night ! 
Shall have your rations of hay to-morrow morn- 
ing ! " Thus, patient in hope and joyful in tribula- 
tion, the poor fellows endured without complaining, 
and found amusement in their miseries. Never was 
an army more subordinate to its officers, and never 
was a weary and exhausting march conducted in 
better order. 

At Glasgow, we heard heavy cannonading in 
front. The Federal force at Mumfordsville, under 
Gen. Wilder, had been attacked by Chalmers' 
division, and the latter had been repulsed with seri- 
ous loss. We pressed on to their aid, making a 



INTO KENTUCKY. 



273 



detour to the right, and crossing Green river at mid- 
night three miles above the enemy's fortifications. 
Quite overcome with fatigue, I lay down upon 
the grass and slept. Awaking in the morning, I 
found myself alone. Hastening forward, I discov- 
ered the whole command in line of battle, and Gen- 
erals Bragg and Polk were riding to and fro in front 
with cheering words. Our batteries on a hill com- 
pletely commanded the fort across the river. Gen. 
Bragg demanded immediate surrender; and without 
a single shot, we captured six thousand men. 

Riding into the works, I saw a fine-looking gen- 
tleman wearing the chaplain's badge. I saluted 
him, and he introduced to me a brother chaplain. 
Both were in great distress, imagining they would 
be held as prisoners, and had lost their horses and 
baggage. I assured them their apprehensions were 
groundless, as our generals never made captives of 
chaplains. I went at once to Gen. Bragg, and told 
him the facts. " I thank you, Doctor," he replied. 
" Please go to my orderly, and tell him to draw an 
order for the horses and baggage of those gentle- 
men. Bear them my compliments, and inform 
them they are at liberty to go where they will, only 
not in front of our army." The whole six thousand 
were afterward released on parole. 

Immediately the northward march was resumed. 
The groans and cries of several hundred wounded 
men in the wagons, as they drove jolting away, 
were heart-rending in the extreme. I remained 
behind to bury one of Gen. Donaldson's aids, who 
had been accidentally shot the preceding night. 



274 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



As I rode forward after the funeral, I narrowly- 
escaped capture by some ambushed cavalry, who 
gave me a good chance to test the speed of my. 
mare. They fired many shots at me, but dared not 
follow me far. Just before sunset, I overtook the 
rear-guard, and passed on to the front. It was 
night, but we continued marching. I entered a 
field, fastened my horse to the fence, stretched 
myself upon the grass, and immediately fell asleep. 
A stroke upon my shoulder awoke me. It was the 
hoof of a horse passing over me, and wheels were 
close behind. I sprang out, and escaped being 
crushed. A four-horse wagon, full of commissary 
stores, had been driven into the field, and the two 
front animals had gone over me before I awoke. 
A horse will never step upon a man, and " He 
that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor 
sleep." 

While we were thus marching on Louisville, 
Buell was marching para passu on a parallel road ten 
miles west of us to protect that city. At Eliza- 
bethtown, Gen. Bragg turned eastward, by way of 
Bardstown, to make a junction with Kirby Smith. 
Kirby Smith had entered the state by Cumberland 
Gap, fought a victorious battle at Richmond, cap- 
tured Lexington and Frankfort, and was now men- 
acing Cincinnati. The Federal forces were fearfully 
agitated all along the line. On our left flank they 
were massing for an attack. Bragg halted at 
Perryville to meet the inevitable ; and on the hills 
along Chaplain's Creek was fought one of the fiercest 
battles of the war. 



PERRYVILLE. 



2/5 



LIII. PERRYVILLE. 

MONDAY morning, the seventh of October, Gen. 
Bragg formed his men in battle-line on the east 
bank of Chaplain's Creek. On the west side, in far 
superior numbers, frowned the Federal front, with 
Buell just behind, ready to reenforce them. All 
was anxious expectation, yet there was no battle — 
only light skirmishing at two or three points, where 
the enemy was feeling for our position. The Rev. 
Dr. Quintard and I were lying in the woods, waiting 
for a movement, and diligently discussing the 
Church militant, the Church expectant, and the 
Church triumphant. The young man who had 
prayed so often for the Bars and Stars passed us 
with a salutation, adding: "Take care of your- 
selves, gentlemen ; I hope to find you all right in 
the evening." The poor fellow never returned. A 
comrade saw him fall, and drew him to a sheltered 
spot ; where he was found, cold and stiff, grasping 
his gun, at nightfall. 

About one o'clock, weary of waiting for the 
enemy, Gen. Bragg ordered an advance all along 
the line. The men went on the run. The battle 
began with a sudden crash, followed by a prolonged 
roar. " Let us go ! " cried my friend, springing to 
his horse — " Let us go ! there will be work for us 
presently." As well as a faithful chaplain, Dr. 
Quintard was a skilful surgeon ; and served in that 
capacity, whenever necessary. I mounted and fol- 
lowed, across the stream and up the hill, till we 



2 ;6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



came in full sight of the enemy's line. It was a 
picture for an artist — a bristling wall of humanity 
in blue, extending right and left as far as we could 
see, and at every foot belching forth flame. It 
looked like a rampart of hell incarnate. Parks of 
artillery, here and there, made every little knoll a 
Vesuvius. The sound was a continuous roar, like a 
concert of cyclones on the sea. The flash of swords 
and bayonets in the sun, as if the earth had opened 
and cast up all its gems, had for me the deadly 
charm of the rattlesnake. Entranced with terror, 
I sat in my saddle, and gazed upon the most splen- 
did spectacle I ever beheld. The Doctor had dis- 
mounted, and sat down in the shelter of a large 
tree. " Better get off of your horse," said he ; 
" they are training that battery this way ; there will 
be a shell here in a moment ! " He had scarcely 
spoken, when the missile struck the tree twenty 
feet above him, and the fragments fell in a fiery 
shower around us. He leaped to his saddle, and 
rode full speed down the hill, his long coat-skirts 
lying horizontal on the air. I followed, but could 
hardly sit my horse for laughter, he looked so like 
some enormous bird in flight. 

I found him at the creek. " This is the place," 
said he ; " I want you to remain with me, and will 
give you something more serious to do than 
laughter at a flying buzzard." Several wounded 
soldiers were already brought in, and others were 
constantly arriving. Here I found employment 
with the surgeons and nurses for the rest of the 
day — probing wounds, pulling out bullets, cutting 



PERRVVILLE. 



277 



ort mangled limbs, sewing up frightful gashes, wash- 
ing away blood and brains, till from head to foot I 
was smeared with gore, and looked the very imper- 
sonation of war. 

The terrible music on the hills never ceased for a 
moment, and the fury of battle never abated. Till 
late in the afternoon, our men pressed the enemy 
back from one position after another, and deemed 
themselves masters of the field. Then came large 
reinforcements from the rear, and the tide of war 
was turned with deadly disaster. Over the spring 
at Perryville raged the fiercest conflict, with a noise 
like the explosion of a new volcano, shaking earth 
and heaven. One of the surgeons said : " They are 
fighting for water now ; they have had none for 
three days." And another responded: "I hope 
they may never get a drop till Abraham sends it to 
them by Lazarus ! " 

As the twilight came on, there was a scene of 
wild confusion, Federals and Confederates mingling 
in fierce disorder, every man grappling with the foe 
he chanced to find. Gen. Polk, standing near one 
of his batteries, saw a body of men opening fire 
upon his position. Supposing them to be Confed- 
erates, he rode over to arrest the mischief. Angrily 
he demanded of the colonel : " What do you mean, 
sir, by firing upon your friends?" "I think there 
can be no mistake," the colonel replied ; " they are 
certainly the enemy." " Enemy ! " exclaimed the 
Bishop, " have I not just left them myself ? Cease 
your firing! What is your name, sir? " " Col. — of 
the — Indiana," was the reply; " and pray what is 



278 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



yours?" Surprised but not confounded, and feign- 
ing a passion which he was far from feeling, the 
general shook his fist in the colonel's face, shout- 
ing : "I'll teach you who I am, sir! Cease your 
firing till I return ! " Then, wheeling his horse, he 
cantered away unsuspected ; and the colonel, con- 
scientiously obeying orders, waited in vain for his 
return. I give the story as told by the general 
himself. 

As darkness fell over the field of blood, the min- 
gled sounds of conflict died away, and the pickets of 
the two armies lay within fifty yards of each other 
nearly all the night, with more than four thousand 
Federal soldiers dead behind them, and two thou- 
sand Confederates. Northern and Southern author- 
ities agree in declaring the battle of Perryville, con- 
sidering the few hours of its duration, the fiercest 
and bloodiest of the war; and no conflict of modern 
times has recorded more remarkable instances, on 
both sides, of personal bravery and heroic endur- 
ance. 

Till midnight I remained with Dr. Quintard, min- 
istering to the wounded and the dying. Then 
word came that Col. Savage was lying disabled on 
the field. I mounted my horse, and went forth to 
find him. Two miles away I met twenty prison- 
ers coming in, with a Confederate guard behind 
them, and Col. Savage riding in the rear. In an- 
swer to my inquiries, he told me his left knee was 
shattered, and he had been struck by a spent ball in 
the side. His horse, shot through the head, was 
bleeding copiously at the mouth and nostrils. I 



PERRYVILLE. 



279 



suggested that the colonel should ride mine, and 
let me lead his. " No, thank you, Doctor," he re- 
plied ; " George has a good constitution, and I think 
he will stand it." Arriving at the creek, we care- 
fully dismounted him ; I pulled off his boot, which 
was full of blood ; and the surgeons washed the 
wound, and bound it up with pads and splin- 
ters. 

It was eight miles to Harrodsburg, and he in- 
sisted on going thither at once. I again begged 
him to ride my horse. Again he declined, assuring 
me that George had a good constitution. We rode 
four miles, and came to a deserted house. The 
colonel could go no farther. There was nothing 
within but a broken chair and a corded bedstead. 
In the stable, however, I found a horse-blanket and 
a buffalo robe. These I laid upon the bedcord, 
and made the colonel lie down. For a while he 
tossed and groaned, and then fell into a sound sleep. 
In a crib I found some corn, which I fed liberally to 
the hungry horses. Then I stretched myself, upon 
the floor beside the colonel's bed, and slept like a 
babe upon its mother's breast. At sunrise I awoke, 
and called the colonel. The ground where George 
had stood was as red as the battle-field we had left ; 
but his master mounted him, with full confidence in 
his good constitution ; and we rode to Harrodsburg, 
four miles farther. Here I put my patient into the 
hands of Mrs. Mary Bowman, Jeanie's sister, who 
nursed him with the utmost care and tenderness. 
He recovered, but returned not to the army. I 
threw away my saturated suit, replaced it with such 



280 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



raiment as I could find, and reported to the general 
a renovated man. 

LIV. MURFREESBORO. 

BRAGG was disappointed. He had hoped by this 
incursion to rouse " neutral " Kentucky, and enlist 
her in the cause of the Confederacy. The effort 
was a signal failure. He found abundant sympathy, 
but little courage. The state was largely repre- 
sented in his army, but its authorities dared not as- 
sume the responsibility of secession. In # obedience 
to orders, men and officers had regarded as sacred 
the rights of property , and the people had no com- 
plaints to make of military oppression, or acts of 
violence. Never was an army under better disci- 
pline, or more exemplary in morals. Its bone and 
sinew were made up of the best men in the South 
— thousands of Christian patriots, contending for 
their homes, and disdaining an unworthy deed. 
With .some accessions, but no booty, we marched 
out of the state by way of Cumberland Gap. The 
retreat was no pleasant experience. A mountain 
range before us, and artillery thundering in our 
rear, we burned our wagons, abandoned our sup- 
plies, and threw away our ammunition. Marching 
toward Nashville, we halted awhile at Tullahoma, 
and then moved forward to Murfreesboro. Here 
we encountered an obstruction, and awaited the 
chance of battle. Gen. Rosecrans was massing his 
army in our front. Forrest and Morgan had 
destroyed the railroad in his rear, and cut off his 



MURFREESBORO. 



28l 



communication with his base at Louisville. The 
mischief must be repaired, and supplies secured, be- 
fore he could accommodate Gen. Bragg. The lat- 
ter was not willing to await his convenience; and, 
having gathered a sufficient force, he moved against 
the heroic " Dutchman " on the thirty-first of De- 
cember. 

Soon after daylight, the terrible music reached 
me, thirty miles away. As fast as Fannie could 
carry me, I rode to the scene of conflict. In three 
hours and a half, I was on the ground. Every- 
where lay the dying and the dead, the blue and the 
gray mingled in a common fate. Hardee and 
Cheatham on our left had attacked the enemy's 
right with complete success. Like a great beam 
five miles long, this end of his line had swung 
back, while his left still held its position on Stone's 
River. With little abatement, the deadly work, 
went on, and position after position was carried by 
the victorious South. In the evening, I encoun- 
tered Generals Bragg and Hardee, riding into town. 
The former hailed me, and said : " They are in full 
retreat, sir; we have won a complete victory! " 

The next day told another story. The enemy 
was still on hand, and the contest was renewed. 
All day it continued, with no other result than the 
waste of ammunition and the loss of human life. 
Both armies held their ground, and neither made 
any advance. It was chiefly an artillery duel. I 
rode up to Carnes' Battery on the hill, and sat there 
watching the fearful work. An officer came and 
said : " This is a dangerous place ; you had better 



282 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



leave." I rode with him down to the river. As 
we entered a small clump of timber, we met such a 
storm of shot and shell as I had never been in 
before. The trees were peeled and lopped around 
us in every direction. Evidently, we had been 
observed, and mistaken for persons of some impor- 
tance. As we galloped away along the bank, a shell 
fell and exploded in the margin of the stream, 
throwing mud and water all over us, but doing no 
other damage. Fording the river, I saw General 
Bragg surrounded by a circle of officers, apparently 
in consultation. He beckoned me, and I ap- 
proached. A shell fell near them, and rolled into 
their midst. One of the officers picked it up, and 
threw it into the river. 

Much of this day was spent as the preceding, in 
picking up wounded men, mounting them on my 
horse, and carrying them back to the hospitals. In 
the evening I went to the court-house to see the 
prisoners. There was a large number ; and, I 
thought, quite a variety of character. Some were 
playing cards, some were cursing the rebels, and 
some were sitting in moody silence. I talked with 
many of them, whose references to home and 
kindred touched my heart deeply. At length I 
entered a room where a fine-looking fellow with a 
chaplain's badge was speaking to a company in 
tears. He was trying to comfort them, and telling 
them how they ought to behave in their present 
tribulation. Waiting till he paused, I saluted him 
as " My Brother." He told me how he happened 
to be taken at the " brick house " on the battle- 



MURFREESBORO. 



283 



field, while ministering to the wounded. He intro- 
duced to me two others, who were also chaplains ; 
one of them a Methodist, whom I had known in 
peaceful years. I reported their case to General 
Bragg, with the same result as at Mumfordsville. 
The next morning I saw them all free and happy. 
The Methodist brother remembered me after the 
war, and wrote me an affectionate letter of thanks. 

While I was thus engaged among the prisoners, 
General Rosecrans was very differently occupied in 
his lines. He was leading to the front, in the dark- 
ness, an imaginary " Fourteenth Division." His 
loud-mouthed officers made as much noise as they 
could. With all the bluster and vociferation pos- 
sible, the feigned reenforcement was manoeuvred 
into position, long lines of camp-fires were kindled, 
and General Bragg was effectually fooled. Next 
morning the Confederate force in front of Rose- 
crans' " Fourteenth Division " was much strength- 
ened, to the weakening of the line where strength 
was more needed. The "Fourteenth Division" 
would not do much fighting; but on our right, 
against which the wily " Dutchman " had massed 
his best artillery, was desperate work to be done. 
Bragg as soon as he saw the urgency of the situa- 
tion, sent thither Breckenridge, Anderson and 
Rains. It "was too late. The encounter was fear- 
ful, and the slaughter almost unparalleled. Fifty- 
two guns, with an enfilading fire, mowed them 
down like grass. Stone's River ran red with blood. 
Two thousand brave men lay dead and dying on its 
banks. The day was lost. 



234 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Exhausted and bleeding, at nightfall, the remnant 
of those three brave divisions came staggering into 
town, as woful a sight as I ever saw. Hundreds of 
disabled and mangled men were brought in wagons 
and ambulances. On a dray I saw an Irishman 
with both legs broken. As the fugitives rushed 
past him, he called out : " What are ye running 
away for, ye spalpeens ! Go back and fight the 
Yankees ! It's myself that'll go with ye, if ye'll give 
me a jigger of whiskey!" But there was no go 
back. They had seen enough of blood, and felt 
enough of bullets. Safety was now the one absorb- 
ing thought. At midnight came the order, and 
under a drenching rain we moved out of Murfrees- 
boro. Through a continuous mortar-bed knee 
deep, we waded twenty miles ; and, with a clearing 
sky, bivouacked near Shelbyville. It was Sunday 
morning, and I preached that day to a thoroughly 
dejected throng. My emotions mastered me, and 
four generals sat weeping before me. It was the 
funeral sermon of thousands. 

In the battle of Murfreesboro, General Rosecrans 
showed consummate military skill. The ruse of the 
" Fourteenth Division " was a splendid stratagem, 
thoroughly deceiving the Confederate commander 
into the belief that he had received a large rein- 
forcement. In numbers he certainly had the ad- 
vantage. There was no braver fighting done during 
the war, and the slaughter on both sides was awful ; 
but victory crowned the Union arms, and immortal- 
ized the name of Rosecrans. 



KNOXVILLE. 



285 



LV. KNOXVILLE. 

From Shelbyville, after some weeks, we retired 
to Tullahoma. Here we remained till March, " in 
strenuous idleness." I had abundant opportunity 
for religious service with the soldiers. Gen. Don- 
aldson, often present himself, furnished me all the 
facilities he could, and gave my work the full 
weight of his influence. I made it my special duty 
to suppress profane language, preached on the sub- 
ject very often, rebuked the vice promptly where- 
ever I met with it, in officers as well as privates, 
and never once experienced a harsh rebuff. The 
conscience of the offender was always on my side. 
I studied carefully the best methods, tried to adapt 
myself to individual cases, and earnestly invoked 
the Divine aid in my endeavors. To God's gracious 
help I must ascribe it, that, often as the occasion 
recurred, I cannot recollect a single instance in 
which my words gave offence. 

In the spring we fell back to Chattanooga, and 
thence went to Knoxville. Gen. Donaldson, over- 
come by hardship and exposure, became very ill. 
I visited him daily at his quarters, and tried to 
direct his ingenuous mind to Him who is " the 
resurrection and the life." In a short time he died, 
beloved and lamented of all. The funeral pro- 
cession was an immense and splendid pageant. I 
conducted the religious solemnities, and pronounced 
a Eulogy on the brave old man. One who heard it 
came and requested a copy, said he had the entree 



286 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



of the enemy's lines, could get the discourse pub- 
lished in a Cincinnati paper, it would be circulated 
widely in the Northern states, and would be of 
great service to the Southern cause. I declined, 
and had good reason to rejoice afterward that I 
had done so. The fellow was playing a double 
game, under pay as a spy for both armies, betraying 
the secrets of each to the other. In the present 
instance he was acting especially for Wm. G. 
Brownlow, and not long afterward he came to an 
unhappy end. Brownlow himself was never on two 
sides at once, though he had the chameleon's faculty 
of changing color to suit his environment. Before 
the war, he was the most fanatical apologist of 
slavery in all the South ; when the strife began, he 
cast in his lot with the abolitionists; and, to use his 
own words, "made a good thing of it." 

Gen. Simon Bolivar Buckner, captured at Fort 
Donelson, now released in exchange of prisoners, 
returned to the Confederate service, and was as- 
signed to the command of East Tennessee. He 
wrote to the Secretary of War immediately, and had 
me appointed to the chaplaincy of the Department. 
This gave me the range of all that portion of the 
state lying east and south of the Cumberland moun- 
tains, with abundant work and good facilities. 
Everywhere I met with kind treatment and cordial 
hospitality. The East Tennesseans, however, were 
not the most enthusiastic supporters of the Confed- 
eracy. Many of them were moderately for the 
South while the Southern soldiers were among 
them, and immoderately for the North when the 



KNOXVILLE. 



287 



Northern soldiers came. At a certain house where 
I spent a night with the General, the good woman 
said of her husband, who was conveniently not at 
home : " he is a great lover of his country, and 
wishes for the success of both armies." In East 
Tennessee there were few slaves, and this has been 
assigned as the chief cause of the popular luke- 
warmness. 

Much with Gen. B., I learned to estimate him as 
a thorough gentleman, with a high sense of honor, 
and morally incapable of an unworthy action. A 
communicant of the Episcopal Church, his habits 
were devoutly religious. In camp, I generally con- 
ducted evening devotions at his tent, his whole staff 
being present. When he retired for the night, he 
always communed with his prayer-book awhile be- 
fore he went to sleep, which he told me had been 
his custom from childhood. 

Reuben G. Clarke, an excellent young man, whom 
I loved as my own soul, had fallen ill in Kentucky, 
and been left behind when we retired from the 
state. For many months I had endeavored to ob- 
tain some information of his fate, and failed. Then 
I gave him up, believing that I should never hear 
from him. One morning, as, I sat writing in my 
room at Knoxville, I was startled by a hand laid 
upon my shoulder. I looked up, and it was Reuben ! 
We fell upon our knees together, and gave thanks 
to God. He was in good health, and had not fallen 
into hostile hands. Immediately he reported him- 
self for cavalry service, went to the west, and fell in 
battle. " Alas, my brother ! " He was one of the 



288 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



truest, gentlest, bravest, least selfish, most mag- 
nanimous men it has been my good fortune to 
find in this fallen planet. God give him eternal 
peace ! 

I heard the noise of rifles, and rode to the top of 
the hill for observation. There was a body of 
cavalry tearing up the railway. A larger force soon 
joined them, and gave our boys lively work for a 
short time. I sat watching the action till the min- 
ie balls came so thick as to suggest a safer place. 
The assailants were soon repulsed, and some of them 
regretted their audacity. 

While sleeping one night in the tent, some mis- 
creant stole my spectacles. He might as well have 
stolen my eyes. The General gave me a furlough 
to go to Augusta — Charleston if necessary — and pro- 
cure another pair. In a week I was back, and ready 
for duty, and as able to dodge a Yankee bullet as 
any officer in the Confederate army. 

My clothes were worn out. I became " as ragged 
as a rebel." Something must be done for me, and 
that without delay. Nobody else to do it, I deter- 
mined to do it myself. Sitting on the green bank 
of the Holston, with the mountain forest for a tailor- 
shop, I cut up an old overcoat, and made myself a 
jacket and a pair of gaiters. The job occupied two 
whole days, and working the button-holes was 
harder than fighting a battle or preaching a sermon ; 
but I succeeded, and the General thought my 
heroic perseverance merited promotion. I have 
always remembered this with much satisfaction, as 
my most brilliant military achievement. 



CHICK AM AUGA. 



289 



LVI. CHICKAMAUGA. 

The enemy was concentrating a few* miles south 
of Chattanooga. We marched to give him battle. 
That was a woful march for me. By an accident, I 
lost my beautiful barb. Fortunately, a farmer had 
a good colt, which he was glad to give me. Full of 
gratitude to God and him, and of grief for my 
faithful Fannie, I went forward with a single hour's 
detention. 

That night we bivouacked under the trees in a 
door-yard. The mistress of the place informed us 
the Yankees had passed there yesterday, and there 
were millions of them, but we were twice as many 
— an encouraging estimate of our strength. At 
nine o'clock, we sang a hymn, and knelt in prayer. 
I had scarcely begun when the good woman lifted 
up her voice like a trumpet in utterance of joy and 
praise. The prayer ended, she came and shook 
hands with the General, saying' she was sure of 
victory now, because we had a godly General. 
Then she shook hands with the rest all round, 
and exhorted us earnestly to trust in the God 
of Joshua and Gideon. In the middle of the 
night, I heard her in the house singing joy- 
fully. 

A short march the next day brought us to the 
Chickamauga. Here we took our position in front 
of the enemy. His main force had crossed the 
Tennessee river at Bridgeport, and come over the 
mountains from the west. It was an arduous flank 



290 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



movement to reach our rear, while Rosecrans 
menaced us from Chattanooga. 

Saturday there had been some desultory righting, 
which had not changed the situation. Sunday 
morning dawned, the twentieth of September, and 
all was ready. General Buckner and his staff were 
mounting for the front. I was in saddle, when the 
General said: " Doctor, there is no need; you can 
do better service here, and will have plenty of work 
before the day is over." Very reluctantly I re- 
mained behind. I watched them till they crossed 
the stream and disappeared in the thick forest. 
Soon we heard the report of a single gun. Instantly 
opened the batteries, braying horrible discord. In 
a few moments the infantry fell in with its tenor, 
and for nine hours the infernal chorus rolled on 
without a pause. Now, with a deep muffled sound, 
it seemed to recede ; and then rose full and sharp 
again upon the air, as if all the railroad trains of the 
continent were coming. 

During the whole forenoon I waited with intense 
anxiety. No tidings came. No wounded men 
arrived. I could bear the suspense no longer. I 
mounted to go to the front. Jim, the General's 
body-servant, begged permission to accompany me. 
" I'll ride Gine'ls white hoss, sah ! " said he ; " I'll 
keep close to you boss's tail, sah ! Yankees neva 
cotch dis darkie, shua ! " We forded the river, and 
entered the woods. The bullets began to strike the 
trees, and the shells were lopping the branches, 
above us. I looked behind, and Jim was not to be 
seen. Just then an impetuous charge of the en- 



CHICKAMAUGA. 



291 



emy pressed our men back, and with a thousand 
others I was forced into the river in our rear. It 
was not deep, but miry, and full of fallen tree-tops. 
To get through was rather difficult, and the compe- 
tition embarrassed our efforts. I saw a man who 
had reached the other side trying to force his horse 
up the bank. The poor beast made desperate 
exertions, and at last fell backward with his rider. 
I rode a short distance down the stream, till I came 
to a sloping bank, and made an easier exit. Going 
far enough to be beyond the range of the shells, I 
paused to wait for Jim. Jim did not appear, but 
the man who had made the somersault aforesaid 
soon came riding up, completely disguised with 
Chickamauga mud. " Well, Doctor ! " he exclaimed, 
" the Campellites have been trying a long time to 
get me immersed, and now I have been immersed 
without their aid! " " Yes," I answered, " and like 
many others, washed to fouler stains!" This led 
to a free discussion of Christian Baptism, and I 
found my new friend no fanatic. 

Returning to our morning quarters I met with a 
number of wounded soldiers, just brought in from 
the field. Here was the work of which the General 
had spoken. During the rest of the day, there was 
enough of it to be done ; and far into the night I 
was busy in bathing and binding up ghastly wounds^ 
and soothing the sufferings of dying men. 

After two hours, Jim came riding in, much in the 
plight of the man I have mentioned. " Why, Jim ! " 
said I ; " I was afraid you were lost ! Where have 
you been ? " " Been ! " exclaimed the poor boy ; 



292 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



" when dem dar big tings come a buzzin' an' a bustin', 
couldn' been nowhar, sah ! An' de sojas push me 
plumb in de riva, sah ! an' couldn' neva got out no 
mo', ef white man hadn' holp me ! " 

About five o'clock rose, clear and shrill, above 
the noise of musketry and artillery, the unmistaka- 
ble shout of victory. Beginning on our left, it ran 
along the line to the extreme right. Four miles in 
the rear, it came back to us as the voice of a single 
man filling all the air. This was the moment when 
the Confederates pierced the enemy's right wing, 
and sent him flying in dire confusion from the field. 
Like electricity on the wire, the panic ran along 
the line. Officers lost their men, regiments lost 
their colors, and it was impossible to arrest the 
fugitives. Thomas on their left maintained his 
position long enough to fire a few ineffectual volleys, 
then joined the general rout. Casting away guns 
and knapsacks, they ran for Chattanooga, and 
paused not till they found themselves behind their 
strong entrenchments. Sixteen thousand were left 
dead, disabled, and in the hands of the victors. But 
it was a costly victory for the Confederates. They 
lost at least ten thousand, killed, wounded, and 
missing. Sleeping on the field, they rallied in the 
morning, but not a blue coat was visible. 

That day I went over the ground in quest of 
wounded soldiers. I gathered up many^ put them 
into ambulances, and sent them to the rear. In one 
place I might have walked a hundred yards upon 
the dead without touching the ground. I saw heaps 
of men and horses lying together where batteries 



CHICKAMAUGA. 



293 



had been. There was a ditch choked with corpses, 
and having in it apparently more blood than water. 
A young man sat leaning against a tree, with an 
open testament in his hand, which he had probably 
died reading. Another held a photograph of a 
handsome middle-aged woman, perchance the dead 
soldier's mother. A third was supported by a 
stump, and in his lap lay the upturned face of a 
youth, beautiful in the last long sleep. 

I discovered a slender column of blue smoke 
rising from a clump of bushes. Approaching, I 
caught a savory odor in the air. There was a 
Yankee soldier, with a shattered ankle. He had 
scraped together a few sticks, and made a fire 
against a log. Upon the coals simmered his little 
coffee-pot, and at its side lay roasting the hind 
quarters of a rabbit he had killed in the midst of 
the battle. I helped him enjoy his dinner, and 
afterward carried him to the rear. 

The army followed the routed host, and sat down 
before Chattanooga. I remained behind, to help 
the disabled and bury the dead. My work finished, 
I rode forward. The sun was down, and in the 
uncertain twilight I passed through the lines of our 
men, lying on the right and left of my road, without 
seeing or suspecting them there. Before me, dis- 
tant about a hundred yards, were six or eight 
officers, whom I mistook for General Buckner and 
his staff. Suddenly I perceived that their coats 
were blue. Without stopping, I turned into a 
field at my right, and rode slowly on in an oblique 
direction. Then I heard the call, "Halt!" The 



2 9 4 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



next moment a minie ball sang past my ear. I 
put the spur to my colt, and he carried me beauti- 
fully out of danger, though many a shot whizzed 
past me as I fled. 

LVII. DENOUEMENT. 

I WAS weary of the war. I am weary of its story. 
In one short section, let me bring the matter to an 
end. 

A fortnight after the Chickamauga holocaust, ill 
of overwork, exposure, and hardtack without coffee, 
I retired for recuperation. In the hospitals, and 
among disheartened citizens, I made a few poor ef- 
forts to " comfort the mourners." In Atlanta and 
Macon, I preached a few feeble sermons. " Seek- 
ing rest and finding none," I went to Milledgeville, 
Fort Valley, Columbus, Eufaula, Madison, Augusta, 
Savannah. At Eatonton, I reposed awhile, with 
much advantage to my shattered health. Too busy 
to be unhappy, and too trustful of Providence to 
despair of the issue, Jeanie maintained a cheerful 
spirit, and drew consolation from all misfortunes. 
Strengthened a little, I repaired to Newnan and 
spent a few weeks with a dear young friend, the 
Rev. R. A. Holland, in spiritual warfare against the 
powers of darkness. My soul was refreshed, my 
faith was increased, and my physical strength 
returned. 

I visited Andersonville, preached to the stockaded 
prisoners, and did what I could to alleviate their 
miseries. Little indeed it was that I could do. 



DENOUEMENT. 



The South was exhausted. The invaders had taken 
all they could carry away and burned the rest. Our 
own soldiers were ragged and famishing. Women 
and children were without bread. For six months I 
had tasted neither sugar nor coffee. Butter was 
one of the " lost arts," tea a forgotten luxury. A 
miracle only could help these prisoners. 

Two volumes of Camp and Field had been 
printed. The third was in press at Columbia, S. C. 
My presence there was necessary. I saw clearly 
that the days of the Confederacy were numbered. 
What was to be done must be done quickly. Bulle- 
tins from the field brought frequent information of 
disaster. On the Mississippi, all was lost. In Vir- 
ginia, Grant was pressing Lee to the last ditch. 
Through Georgia, Sherman was burning houses, rob- 
bing women and children, and laying waste every- 
thing in his course. I knew that Yankee soldiers 
could smell gold in six feet of earth, and detect un- 
seen the coffin that contained the silver. I knew 
how they examined wells, ransacked garrets, probed 
cellar-bottoms with bayonets, and excavated ceme- 
teries for buried treasure. So I invented a new 
method, for which I ought to have had a Confeder- 
ate patent, for the concealment of precious things. 
An immense quantity of money and valuable arti- 
cles I hid so effectually that the proprietors still had 
them when " the overflowing scourge " had passed. 
The watch now in my pocket hung two months in a 
tree top. Three weeks I lay in the Santee Swamp, 
amidst alligators, moccasins, cotton-mouths, and 
rattlesnakes, more friendly than those northern 



296 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



brethren of mine. One blessed Lord's day I spent 
in the stockade near Florence, " preaching deliver- 
ance to the captives, and the opening of the prisons 
to them that were bound." My heart bled for their 
miserable destitution, and the best that I had I gave 
them in the name of Jesus. How eagerly they lis- 
tened ! How joyfully they received the message ! 
I would have remained with them, and continued my 
work ; but Sherman was approaching, and prudence 
suggested retirement. 

Like an avalanche Caesar descended upon Colum- 
bia. Like a herd of hungry tigers from the jungle, 
his soldiers leaped upon the prey. The municipal 
authorities went forth to meet the conqueror, and 
formally surrendered the city. He burned it, and 
disavowed the deed. His men, with torches, went 
from house to house setting all on fire. A sick lady 
from her bed was dragged forth into the frosty 
night, and left to perish before her burning habita- 
tion. The Rev. Dr. Shand, an aged clergyman, 
endeavored to remove a trunk containing his ser- 
mons to a place of safety; the soldiers took it from 
him, cut the manuscripts to pieces, and scattered 
them in shreds to the wind. The venerable Luth- 
eran pastor, Dr. Bachman, eighty years old, an emi- 
nent scientist, connected with Audubon in his orni- 
thological labors, they treated with horrible barbar- 
ity, running their bayonets through his arms. The 
publishing house, where Camp and Field lay in the 
bindery, was burned to the ground. In one night, 
the most beautiful city of the South became a mass 
of smouldering ruins. This is Civilized Warfare ! 



DENOUEMENT. 



297 



Came tidings of Lincoln's end. Came tidings of 
Lee's surrender. Came tidings of Davis' flight and 
capture. I arose to return to Nashville. I bought 
a mule ; he threw me over his head, and ran away. 
I found a gray mare, abandoned by some Yankee 
cavalry ; and drowned her in attempting to swim a 
river. I took my big canvas saddlebags upon my 
shoulder, containing my whole sum of worldly goods 
and marched heroically homeward. Everywhere the 
railways were torn up, and houses reduced to ashes. 
A loaf of bread was " manna in the wilderness." 
Reaching Augusta, a friend furnished me another 
horse. I rode to Athens, and "spent three days with 
Bishop Pierce. " Bishop," said I, " the cause of the 
division is no more ; why may not southern and 
northern Methodists reunite ? " " I know of no rea- 
son," he answered, "and shall be the first to for- 
ward the reunion." The reunion has not yet ar- 
rived. 

I passed on to Eatonton, but my family had 
gone. I proceeded to Madison, gave my horse to a 
friend, and took the railway for Atlanta. Where 
that city had been, I found only some heaps of 
brick and stone, blackened with fire. The very 
streets were obliterated. Babylon was not a more 
utter ruin. Again I shouldered my canvas saddle- 
bags. It was more than twenty miles to Marietta. 
There I again found the railroad, and a shattered 
freight-car was as good as Pharaoh's chariot. A few 
miles and I was once more on foot, marching over 
burnt ties and broken trestles. Night came on, and 
my couch was a shelterless plank in a drenching 



2 9 8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



rain. I walked thirty miles the next day — naked 
chimney stacks everywhere — not a house to be seen 
— not a fence — not a rail. Foot-sore and hunger- 
faint, at last I arrived in Chattanooga. 

I was entitled to transportation home. That was 
the stipulation, well understood, at the surrender, 
on behalf of all Confederate soldiers and officers. I 
went to headquarters for my ticket. It was refused 
me. I was ordered to " remain at Chattanooga, 
and report at these headquarters every morning and 
evening." I asked the reason why. The answer 
was, that " no provision was made for chaplains." 
" Then you have no authority to detain chaplains," 
I answered, and walked away. The train was just 
ready to start, and the officers were examining the 
tickets of the men as they entered. There were 
about forty box cars, as full as they could be 
packed. I watched my opportunity, and slipped in 
unobserved. Arriving in Nashville, I " recon- 
structed " myself by the oath of allegiance, and in 
new relations resumed the battle of life. " Glory 
be to God on high, and on earth peace, good will 
toward men!" 

LVIII. IN TRANSITU. 

" A CHANGE came o'er the spirit of my dream " — 
a change to me of the utmost importance, however 
lightly esteemed by others. Born and nurtured in 
the Church of England, I had naturally great love 
for her liturgy. To me, as to John Wesley and 
Adam Clarke, the Book of Common Prayer was 



IN TRANSITU. 



2 99 



second only to the Bible. The Sunday Collect was 
always part of my Sunday-school lesson. In the 
use of these sacred formulae, I learned to pray as 
early as I learned to sing. In the gallery at Lymp- 
sham, with fifty other boys, I chanted Venite, Te 
Deum, Benedictus, Magnificat, till the divine words 
wrought themselves into the very texture of my 
soul. Later> at South Brent, my slender voice 
mingled with the orchestra of brass instruments, 
and on the wings of a mighty harmony my heart 
went up to Heaven. To my feeble and unsophisti- 
cated faith, the Church was ultimate authority in 
everything ; and her white-robed priests were not 
men, but angels. With what loving reverence I 
looked up to Parson Stephenson, and felt myself in 
his presence awfully near to God ! 

The removal to America broke the charm. Old 
things passed away, and all things became new. 
The Church unknown in Cicero f Methodism was its 
best substitute. My partial schooling in the Lymp- 
sham chapel had measurably prepared me for the 
change. An intensely emotional religion seemed to 
me a higher spiritual manifestation. I threw myself 
into the sream, and it bore me to the isles of the 
blest. With such absorbing interest and divine 
enthusiasm I gave myself to my new work, that for 
more than ten years I hardly missed the ministries 
of grace which had been so precious in childhood. 
For half those years, indeed, I was not aware that 
anything akin to the Church of England existed in 
these United States. Of the Episcopal Church I 
often heard, but saw nothing more than some small 



3oo 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



gothic structure with buttresses and pinnacles. 
Naturally I supposed it to be one of the American 
sects, on the same footing as the Presbyterian and 
Baptist denominations. With my beloved Method- 
ism, as far preferable to these, I was well content, 
and my circuit sulky was better than the chariot of 
Aminadab. 

At the age of twenty-six, I found myself sta- 
tioned in Ithaca. Doctor Judd was the rector of 
Saint John's. Near neighbors, we were often 
together — the saintly octogenarian and the enthusi- 
astic Methodist boy. With the gentleness of a 
John blending the zeal of a Peter and the faith of a 
Paul, he inspired me with the utmost confidence 
and affection, and soon opened my eyes to a serious 
defect in my religion. The conviction became pain- 
ful, and I looked anxiously for further light. I 
wanted a Church with a history and an authority to 
which Methodism made no claim. As "part of my 
preparation for the ministry, I had carefully studied 
The Defense of oar Fathers, and other vindications 
of the Methodist Episcopate. With their logic 
never fully satisfied, it now seemed weak and worth- 
less. How could John Wesley impart a power he 
did not possess ? Not a bishop himself, how could 
he make a bishop of Coke or Asbury ? As a mat- 
ter of fact, did he intend to do so ? Did he not 
distinctly disclaim such intention, and solemnly 
rebuke their assumption of the name and the 
authority? Did he not to the last disavow the pur- 
pose of setting up a new sect, and faithfully warn 
his followers never to think of separation from the 



IN TRANSITU. 



301 



Church to which he confessed allegiance? Was not 
the " Methodist Episcopal Church," therefore, from 
the beginning, a misnomer ? Was not its organiza- 
tion a schism, rending the body of Christ asunder? 
However holy their aim, however noble their 
motives, however successful their endeavors, were 
not the good men in error who had led us so far 
astray from the ancient fold ? 

These were my convictions, sometimes amounting 
to mental agony. I carried them to my presiding 
elder, the Reverend Joseph Castle. He said : 
" You are right. I heartily sympathize with you. 
You ought to go into the Episcopal Church. Were 
I of your age, I would go with you. But I am too 
far advanced in life to make the change. I will 
keep your counsel, however, and help you what I 
can. You would do well, I think, to make the 
acquaintance of Bishop Delancy. Let no Metho- 
dist preacher know anything of your purpose. 
With me the matter is safe, and I shall rejoice in 
its success." 

Such magnanimity was more than I had hoped. 
I made Brother Castle my confidant, and he gave 
me a course of lessons in Hebrew. Dr. Judd intro- 
duced me to the Bishop, to Dr. Andrew of Bing- 
hamton, and Dr. Hale of Hobart College. Books 
of Theology, Church History, and Ecclesiastical 
Polity, were put into my hands. My kind old 
Mentor supervised my reading. Six months this 
went on, and I was happy. Night and day I prayed 
for Divine guidance. Just as Dr. Judd was about 
to make out my papers, preparatory to my becom- 



302 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



ing a candidate for Holy Orders, I read a book of 
Bishop Mcllvaine's, which taught me that the 
Church, both in England and America, was drifting 
Romeward with a frightful velocity. This was an 
alarming revelation, producing in my mind a thor- 
ough revulsion. I knew nothing of parties in the 
Church — nothing of Bishop Mcllvaine's relation to 
them — nothing of the real nature and significance of 
the Oxford movement. I paused confounded. 
Had I not made an awful blunder? Better Meth- 
odism than Popery. I would remain where I was, 
and make the best of it. I reread my Methodist 
texts, and reassured myself as to the Methodist 
policy. The first fruit of the reaction was a series 
of twelve lectures on the Apostolic Succession. 
The pendulum had swung to the other extremity of 
its arc. Either my cause was bad, or my logic was 
worse. A young man who heard the discourses 
reached a conclusion exactly opposite to their aim, 
and found his destiny in the ministry of the Church. 
A good friend of his took the same chute, and both 
became Doctors of Divinity. The last error was 
worse than the first. I had now acted precipitately, 
wronged the Church, and injured my own con- 
science. The Church is not yet shipwrecked on the 
rocky coast of Rome, and I have never forgiven 
myself the folly that questioned her compass and 
her course. My repentance came too late, and I 
remained in the Methodist ministry, with oft-recur- 
ring convictions of a false position, and fervent 
longings for the opportunity to redeem my self- 
reproach. 



HOUSTON. 



303 



Came at length that opportunity. When Lee 
surrendered to Grant, I made haste to surrender to 
Quintard. Chaplains together in the Confederate 
army, we had frequent discussions of some of the 
great questions that lay nearest to my heart, and I 
was fully decided as to what I would do. Doctor 
Quintard was already in nomination for the Episco- 
pate of Tennessee. Gladly he received my applica- 
tion, and I became a candidate for Holy Orders 
in the Church. He invited me to accompany him 
to the General Convention in Philadelphia. Thence 
I repaired to New York, and remained six months 
in the General Theological Seminary. Then I 
returned to Tennessee, was ordained Deacon one 
week, and Priest the next. As the Bishop's Chap- 
lain, with parchment letters to the Archbishops of 
Canterbury and York, and the Bishops and Clergy 
generally of the Church of England, I revisited my 
native country, continued there half a year, preached 
in many churches, and in Salisbury Cathedral ; 
everywhere received with the most considerate 
kindness, and learning much more of the Church 
and her work than I could have learned from books 
and brethren in the same time at home. 



LIX. HOUSTON. 

On my return from England, Bishop Potter 
kindly invited me to accompany him to Albany. I 
went, and officiated in St. Peter's. While there, I 
was requested to come to Cooperstown, and spend 
the next Sunday at Christ's Church. I found the 



304 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



place interesting, the parish prosperous, and every- 
thing indicative of a fine field for usefulness. 
Thence, for a visit to friends, I proceeded to Syra- 
cuse. A unanimous call from the Vestry to the 
rectorship of Christ's Church followed me thither. 
Before it arrived, I had gone back to New York. 
Through some mistake in forwarding, the docu- 
ment failed to reach me. These accidents are 
providential. He who counts the hairs of our 
heads cannot be indifferent to the destiny of his 
servants. Did he not sometimes thwart our plans, 
the wisest and best of us would " ever into ruin 
run." How far this failure changed my career and 
fortunes in the Church, it were vain now to specu- 
late. How far it may ultimately affect the fate of 
an immortal soul, and the spiritual state of millions 
more to all eternity, He alone can know who 
" seeth the end from the beginning." 

I returned to Tennessee. With good Bishop 
Quintard, I visited Mobile and New Orleans. A 
letter came to the Bishop from Hugh Scott of 
Houston. He wrote on behalf of the Wardens and 
Vestry of Christ's Church in that city, requesting 
him to nominate a rector for them. The Bishop 
read the letter, and handed it to me, saying : " That 
is the place for you, and I am going to recommend 
you." In less than five minutes he had tele- 
graphed : " Dr. Cross is with me ; call him." In 
half an hour more I received, through the same 
medium, the official call. Four days later I began 
my work in Houston. A very good rectory was 
ready for me, and my salary was " Two thousand 



HOUSTON. 



305 



dollars in gold, to be paid in advance quarterly." 
The people were cordial, the church well rilled with 
worshippers, and Bishop Gregg the very soul of kind- 
ness and magnanimity. There was much to be 
done, and I set about it with all my energy. The 
Sunday-school was revived, a Bible class organized, 
a new choir collected, choral service introduced, 
and a society of ladies formed to aid the rector. 
The rector's zeal was greater than his discretion, 
and some mistakes were made in the administra- 
tion of the parish. Satan was not suffered to hinder 
me, however, and my labor was not in vain in the 
Lord. Our Lenten service at sunrise filled the 
church, unusual interest among outsiders was 
awakened, and in a short time I had a large class to 
present for confirmation. 

For some months my wife and daughter remained 
in Kentucky. For cook, caterer and chambermaid, 
I employed an Englishman, who in the same rela- 
tions had served a company of "hofficers in Hin- 
dia." A young Presbyterian licentiate came to me 
as a candidate for Holy Orders in the Church— An- 
drew J. Yeater. I took him in, and helped him in 
his studies. He soon got into a controversy with 
my cook, and I was under the necessity of dismiss- 
ing both. Mr. Y. was in due time ordained to the 
diaconate, but did no credit to the ministry, made 
trouble for himself and others wherever he went, 
and with his wife was horribly slaughtered at last 
by the Apaches in New Mexico. 

Another impracticable was the Rev. Mr. Jope. 
He had written me a number of letters from Mobile. 



306 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



He wanted to come to Houston, and set up a 
Church school for girls, or engage in missionary 
work under the direction of the Bishop. I replied 
that I would do all I could for him, but nothing 
more definite was promised. One evening a dray 
was driven up to the rectory gate, groaning beneath 
a pyramid of boxes and barrels and bundles and 
bedding. The pyramid opened, and out stepped 
two lovely little girls. A black-eyed man on foot, 
leading another girl of fourteen years, approached 
me, saying: "These are my children, and this is an 
adopted daughter, and I am Mr. Jope." These also 
I took in, and entertained as well as I could. The 
elder girl became our housekeeper, the younger 
ones were sweet and helpful, and the father 
preached excellent sermons. They were all musi- 
cians, and our morning and evening worship made 
Heaven in the rectory. Nothing, however, turned 
up for Mr. Micawber in the way of a school ; and 
after he had helped me three months as curate, the 
Bishop gave him a mission. His success was small, 
his blunders great, his troubles many, his failures 
constant, his temper peculiar, and his catastrophe 
appalling. After having made bad work in three or 
four places, he went to Indianola ; and in a terrible 
storm and inundation, which destroyed the town, 
perished with all his family. 

The ladies of the parish had put the rectory in 
excellent order, with new carpets, new furniture, 
new table ware, and everything requisite for a 
better style of housekeeping. Came Jeanie and 
Marianna, bringing a new atmosphere, with the 



HOUSTON. 



307 



aroma of blue grass ; and the roses and oleanders 
put on a new bloom, and the mocking-birds and 
cardinals sang a new song in the shrubbery, and my 
heart was in full sympathy with the new Eden of 
my environment. On all our solemn feast days, 
the gates of Zion teemed with welcome strangers. 
Our music was improved, and the responses grew 
more hearty. Everything seemed indicative of a 
higher spiritual tone in the parish. The Bishop 
came, and spoke comfortable words, and congratu- 
lated me on the success of my work. Thus all 
went on without jar or friction for many peaceful 
months, and Satan let us alone in our sweet pros- 
perity, perchance the more effectually to surprise 
us by some overwhelming calamity. 

It came in the form of yellow fever. Like a sud- 
den cyclone, the blast from hell smote us without 
warning. In one of our Church families, four per- 
sons were prostrated the first day. Jeanie and I 
went to their assistance. The next day I was 
called to the bedside of Hugh Scott, and he died at 
midnight. One Sunday I buried the wife of the 
Methodist preacher, and himself the next. Many 
of our best citizens sank suddenly under the terrible 
visitation. An actor expired in agony while I was 
praying for him. A young man cursed and blas- 
phemed till the black vomit choked his last utter^ 
ance. A poor fellow in his delirium leaped out of 
a window in the night, and ran naked two miles, 
when he fell down and died. A girl sent her nurse 
for warm water, in her absence escaped from the 
room, and four days later was found convalescent 



308 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



lying under the oleanders in the garden. We had 
seven cases at the rectory, and three of them in one 
week proved fatal. My wife was extremely ill, had 
black vomit, yet recovered. My dear Marianna, in 
her fifteenth year, fell fainting in my arms ; and 
never afterward raised her head, though she lived 
nine days. At eleven o'clock at night our physi- 
cian left us, and died before dawn. In a population 
of at least fifteen thousand, I was the only man left 
to bury the dead. I read the funeral service over 
my own little darling. All other ministers were 
dead, prostrate, or departed. Day and night, from 
house to house, from couch to couch, from grave to 
grave, I went with the consolations of grace, and 
felt myself wonderfully sustained and strengthened. 

One hapless sufferer awakened all my sympathy. 
How can I write the name of George Carter? As a 
Methodist preacher, he had. made himself illustrious 
by his eloquence. He had become Doctor of 
Divinity, and President of Soule University. 
There the war found him, and he went forth the 
colonel of a regiment. He was captured, and held 
some time a prisoner. At the close of the struggle, 
he returned to Texas, a drunkard, a gambler, a 
scoffer, and a blasphemer — one of the saddest moral 
wrecks developed by the conflict. This wretched 
apostate now lived in Houston, forgetful of his 
family, and given to all iniquity. Word came to 
me that he was dying. I hastened to his couch, 
found him neglected and forsaken, except by his 
heart-broken wife. He did not seem to recognize 
me, and I deemed him quite unconscious. What I 



HOUSTON. 



309 



could I did to make him comfortable, and remained 
with him till the next morning. Alone at mid- 
night, not knowing that he observed me, I knelt by 
his pillow in silent prayer. If ever I prayed ear- 
nestly, I did there and then. The next evening I 
found him better, and he continued to improve till 
thoroughly restored. He afterward said to me : 
" When you knelt down to pray, I felt myself a lost 
soul ; but when you rose up, I was sure I should re- 
cover ; and that moment I solemnly pledged myself 
to return to God and duty ; and now it is my wish 
to take orders in the Episcopal Church, and with 
God's help try to undo the mischief I have done." 
I believe he was perfectly sincere in this declaration. 
His Methodist brethren, however, persuaded him to 
return to the fold he had forsaken, restored him to 
his former status, and rejoiced greatly in his refor- 
mation. It lasted but a little while, and the last 
state of that man was worse than the first. 

From a funeral, one afternoon, I returned in a 
state of nervous prostration, and lay down upon the 
sofa. At nightfall a chill came on. Having twice 
had yellow fever, I did not apprehend a third at- 
tack; but the physician came, and pronounced it as 
well defined a case of that terrible disease as he had 
met with in the city. At midnight I began to 
preach, and continued forty-eight hours, repeating 
sermon after sermon, of which in health I could not 
remember a single sentence. The report went out 
that I was dead. It was published in the Church- 
man, contradicted in its next issue, and a week 
later reaffirmed. For the third time, I lived to 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



learn that I was dead, and prove the re-lie-ability of 
the press. Whatever the newspaper may say of me 
hereafter, it must not be mistaken for the truth. 

In the autumn, called to her father's deathbed, 
Jeanie returned to Kentucky. I took to the ceme- 
tery, where the mocking birds sang nightly over 
Marianna's grave. There I found my sweetest fel- 
lowship, and felt myself nearest to God. My 
brother Eton, rector of Trinity Church, Galveston, 
came to see me, and said " none but a demoniac 
would dwell among the tombs." My " legion," 
then, thought I, knew pretty well how to simulate 
sanctity; but no marvel, since their captain some- 
times " deceived the very elect." So I left the 
cemetery, and took up my quarters in the church- 
yard. Around the sacred ground I planted a hedge 
of choice roses. With infinite labor, I set out bays 
and magnolias from the forest, oleanders and honey- 
suckles from Galveston, and filled every available 
space with flowers. This was my winter pastime, 
occupying every hour I could spare from more im- 
portant duties. 

Dr. Bliss, the dentist, was incurably ill of diabe- 
tes. Daily I visited him, read to him, prayed with 
him, and tried to lead him to Christ. At length he 
begged me to baptize him. As I poured the con- 
secrated water upon his head, he broke forth in a 
joyous song of praise. Some three weeks longer he 
continued on this side Jordan, suffering extremely 
in the flesh, but the happiest soul I ever saw. 
Never was there a moment of doubt or fear. Con- 
fident of his acceptance in Christ, he exhorted all to 



MULTUM IN PARVO. 



come to the cleansing fountain which had washed 
away his sins, and rejoiced continually in the assur- 
ance of immortality. His last day I spent by his 
pillow, gave him the sacred memorial of redemp- 
tion, witnessed a faith which might have convinced 
a world of skeptics : 

" Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly as to a night's repose, 
Like flowers at set of sun." 

Having buried her father, Jeanie returned to 
Houston. The Bishop visited us again, and con- 
firmed a numerous class. I went with him to Aus- 
tin, and many other places, preaching at all of them. 
Notwithstanding the overflowing scourge of the 
former summer, the fugitives had rallied, the spirit 
of the parish had revived, and with God's blessing 
my work was richly rewarded. Since the yellow 
fever, however, not having recovered my normal 
health, and feeling the need of rest and recupera- 
tion, I anticipated the time of the General Conven- 
tion to which I was a deputy, and went eastward 
with my wife. At New Orleans, she took the train 
for Kentucky, and I the shortest route to New 
York, where I remained till the great council of the 
Church convened in Trinity Chapel — October, 1868. 



LX. MULTUM IN PARVO. 

My rambling story is likely to be too long. 
" For the elect's sake, the days shall be shortened." 
Here is the quintessence of twenty-two years in a 



312 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



single section. If anything should be added, it 
must be written by another hand. 

Many changes, with strange failures and successes, 
have I experienced in these years. Were I to 
relate them all, the narrative might prove as mo- 
notonous as Mark Twain's cow coming down the 
chimney. I have presented for confirmation twenty- 
four classes, ranging in number from one to 
seventy ; have assisted eight young men toward the 
attainment of Holy Orders, conducted twelve 
parochial missions, published nine volumes, quar- 
relled with three choir-masters, and tilted with two 
wardens. How many souls I have saved, how 
many ruined, " that day " shall declare. 

In my largest parish, the senior warden was a 
wealthy lunatic just from the asylum, the Sunday- 
school superintendent would have no rector med- 
dling with his work, two unbaptized Churchmen 
claimed absolute control of the music, the leading 
soprano was a Roman Catholic, and Satan sat at 
the organ. One year in such a parish was enough. 

In another I found a bitter feeling against the 
Bishop. He was too pure and faithful to suit the 
lax notions of an ignorant and incompetent vestry. 
He was doing his best to rescue one of the wardens 
from deadly sin. The evil spirit I strove in vain to 
exorcise. Death, sudden and awful, cut the knot 
which Love could not untie, and disclosed a depth 
of iniquity which none had ever suspected. 

At Cedar Rapids, Iowa — 1868-69 — I organized a 
Bible-class of seventy-four adults, out of which I 
got thirty-six candidates for confirmation. St. 



MULTUM IN PARVO. 



313 



John's, Buffalo, offered me a wider field. The 
burnt church, just restored, was well filled with 
worshippers and listeners. There was money 
enough, and the outlook was very encouraging. 
But everything was ruled or ruined by unspiritual 
persons, who made no pretension to personal relig- 
ion. Is not the election of noncommunicants and 
unbaptized men to the vestry a serious mistake ? 
Should the Free Masons or the Knights of Labor 
go outside of their order for officers and commit- 
tees, what could be expected but disorder and dis- 
aster ? 

I bade adieu to Buffalo, and went to Atlanta, 
Georgia, where I found the case no better. Here 
was an infant parish, conceived in sin, born in 
iniquity, and nurtured in mutual malice and 
revenge. Nothing else possible, I unfurled the 
Banner of The Church, bore it aloft one bitter 
year, then handed it over to the Bishop of Tennes- 
see, who made it his organ. A few months, in 
Memphis, the thing lived a sickly life, then died of 
many doctors. 

Trinity, St. Louis — 1870-72 — gave me plenty of 
hard work, with no small anxiety. There was a 
heavy debt upon the church property, of which 
payment seemed impossible. I resigned, and the 
Bishop made the house his cathedral. What Amer- 
ican Churchman knows not its subsequent history? 

At Jacksonville, Illinois — 1872-75 — much good 
seemed possible, " but Satan hindered me." I ob- 
jected to dancing at a Church festival, and a faction 
whose religion was in their heels wanted at once a 



3H 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



Reformed Episcopal Church. I held a few paro- 
chial missions, and there was a movement to make 
me Missioner for the diocese. Meanwhile, Bishop 
Whitehouse died, and his successor smiled not upc .i 
the enterprise. 

In 1876,1 went South, built a rectory, and cap- 
tured a town — ghost of a town — St. Augustine, 
Texas. Unable to live without money, I accepted 
a call to Canton, Mississippi. The desert left by the 
war soon began to bloom and sing. But poor Q. 
had cancer ; a council of physicians advised a colder 
climate ; St. John's, Michigan, welcomed our 
advent ; and there the dear sufferer died peacefully 
in 1 88 1. At midlent I was prostrated by pneumo- 
nia, and in a frightful nightmare Satan taunted me 
with my defeat and bitterly laughed me to scorn. 
With " the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word 
of God," I met him at the head of all his mustered 
myrmidons. In battle array they advanced — a 
serried and ghastly throng, reaching to the utmost 
horizon. The earth trembled at their tread, and 
my heart quailed within me. But the " Captain of 
the Lord's host " came to my aid, with his ranks of 
celestial warriors. I saw the charge, the shock, the 
rout, the triumph, and joined the shout of victory. 
My own voice awoke me, and dissolved the vision. 
The reader will find it reproduced and condensed in 
the second sermon of Knight Banneret, which 
ought to be read as a real part of this history. 

Two good years — 1881-83 — followed at Moravia, 
Central New York — two peaceful years of tender 
and holy friendship — not altogether unfruitful of 



MULTUM IN PARVO. 



315 



blessing to the Church. These were succeeded by 
two years and a half, at Kelloggsville, of successful 
missionary work and literary labor. This proved 
the fairest oasis I had found in the desert of my 
pilgrimage. " Then said I, surely I shall die in my 
nest ! I shall never more know sorrow ! " God 
heard, and smote me. Suddenly, while reading the 
Psalter in Church, I was stricken down ; and for 
many months, often in extreme agony, I lay on the 
brink of the grave. Chastened, I was not killed. 
My work was yet unfinished. How sweetly God 
poured his love into my penitent heart ! During 
the latter part of my illness, chiefly in bed, I wrote 
ALONE WITH God. Then I was mysteriously 
restored. But while my cup yet ran over with joy, 
it fell, shattered, from my hand. She who had 
made my Paradise drooped and died ; and Mam- 
mon, aided by a maniac, kindled a hell-beacon on 
her tomb ! 

A change of scene was desirable. The last word 
on those beloved lips had been, " Don't give up ! " 
I braced myself against misfortune, took up my 
residence in New York city, became Afternoon 
Preacher in the Church of The Heavenly Rest. It 
proved to me the Church of the Earthly Conflict. 
Satan brought his heaviest battery to bear upon my 
pulpit. Sorrow and sickness again laid me in the 
dust. How much I suffered, thou knowest, O 
Divine Sufferer ! and thy gracious sympathy was 
my strong support in the greatest trial of my life ! 
Wonderful also was the kindness of a few friends, 
and an unspeakable solace to my wounded spirit 



3i6 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



the gentle ministrations of Christian love. Three 
names, which I forbear to mention, are in the Book 
of Life. My physician advised a sea voyage, and 
once more I embarked for my native land. Six 
months I wandered in the footprints of my child- 
hood ; old memories came back like the notes of 
familiar melodies ; and voices I had not heard for 
many years spoke balsam to my heart. For all thy 
goodness, O my God ! accept the poor tribute of 
my praise ! 

Returning, I sought the genial climate of New 
Mexico, wandered widely among its mountains and 
caftons, and found its scenery and its sunshine no 
mean compensation for the disappointments and 
pecuniary losses of a two-years' sojourn on the 
frontier of Immanuel's land. As a missionary I 
labored hard, but the harvest was more chaff than 
wheat. I failed where none had succeeded, where 
success must have been a miracle. Perhaps my 
failure was the necessary discipline of my faith in 
Him who saith to more than one of his followers : 
" What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt 
know hereafter." At the base of the Rocky 
Mountains, I have buried a mystery for the resur- 
rection. 

To-day I am near the middle of my third year at 
St. Thomas' Church, Hamilton, Central New York, 
not far from the scenes of my schoolboy days and 
earliest Methodist ministry. An old parish, it has 
never been very strong. The people are intelligent, 
well cultured, and a few of them generously en- 
dowed with worldly goods. The rectory is large 



MULTUM IN PARVO. 317 

and commodious, and abundant bloom and fra- 
grance reward my rather unskilful horticulture. 
Here flourishes, and has flourished since 1819, 
Madison — now Colgate — University — the pet insti- 
tution of the Baptists, sending out every year large 
reinforcements to the home pastorate and the for- 
eign missionary force. Its spirit, of course, has 
leavened the whole community, leaving little build- 
ing material for the Church. But our foundation 
upon the Rock stands unshaken amidst the waters, 
and we get now and then a living stone for the 
architecture of the New Jerusalem. Among the 
faculty and the students, I have found good friends. 
Dr. Ebenezer Dodge, recently gone to his rest, was 
truly a princely spirit — intellectually and morally, 
as well as physically, head and shoulders above all 
his brethren. Beloved on earth and honored in 
Heaven, I doubt not he is now with our common 
Savior ; and hastening after him, I hope soon to 
grasp his hand where all are one in Christ. 

I have a friend, about my own age, whom I have 
loved tenderly through all vicissitudes from boy- 
hood ; and who, I believe, from boyhood, through 
all vicissitudes, has tenderly loved me. Our friend- 
ship was formed at school. In youth he was an 
earnest Christian ; and few young men of my ac- 
quaintance, if any, possessed so many moral and 
intellectual attractions. He then seemed well 
established in religious truth, though naturally of a 
speculative and skeptical cast of mind. For many 
years past, he has wandered blindly in the mazes of 
a vain philosophy, believing nothing, questioning 



3i8 



DAYS OF MY YEARS. 



everything, tormenting himself with the uncertainty 
of all beyond the tomb. Differing with me at all 
points, the dear fellow yet clings to me as if he 
hoped for help from my weakness and light from 
my darkness. Father in Heaven ! what can I do ? 
There is nothing left, to which I can appeal. 
Floundering in the black abysm of universal doubt, 
how can I reach him ? O Thou who hast walked 
the stormy waves, stretch forth thy hand and save ! 
Then will I sing Nunc Dimittis, and return unto my 
rest ! 

Oct. 15, 1890. Hail, Tampa ! To drop the win- 
ters out of my remaining years, I come to this 
genial clime. More is possible here than in Hamil- 
ton. Huge saurians abound in these waters, and 
terrible reptiles hide beneath the flowers ; but sweet 
breezes whisper health through the fronds of the 
cocoa-palm, and the mocking bird fills the night 
with melody. This is to be the scene of my final 
conflict for Christ and his kingdom. Very dreadful 
to me seems a useless old age. If it be God's will, 
in his service I desire to fill out the measure of my 
days, 

" My body with my charge lay down, 
And cease at once to work and live." 

And now, with truest love to all who ever loved 
me, and perfect pardon for all who ever wronged 
me, and utmost possible oblivion of all the unkind- 
ness and injustice I ever suffered, here will I make 
an end. 



MULTUM IN PARVO. 



319 



Searcher of hearts and Father of mercies ! hast 
Thou forgotten with what sincerity, in early youth, 
I gave myself, soul and body, a living sacrifice, to 
Thee ? And is it with indifference to-day, Thou 
seest me gathering into this urn the ashes of that 
burnt offering, covered with autumn leaves and 
sprinkled with heart-tears, to place beneath Thine 
altar ? Accept, O God of my life ! the little all I 
have to bring ; and make this book a blessing to 
others, when I shall have come to Thee ! 



SERMON STUFF. 



By the Rev. S. D. McCONNELL, D,Da 



THIRD EDITION. 



12mo. Cloth. $1.00 net. 



" It certainly is the most remarkable collection of sketches 
we have ever seen." — The Standard of the Cross. 

" We can readily see how they can be made an immense 
help to an overtaxed and hurried preacher, in the way at 
least of suggestion, and to all such we heartily commend 
it." — The Christian at Work, 

" We find among them many ingenious, forcible, and sug- 
gestive schemata for the pulpit." — The Independent. 

" For clear, manly, strong thought, we frankly commend 
this book as a model to sermonizers." — The Christian 
Union. 

"We cannot think of any other single volume of equal 
merit in its particular line." — The Living Church. 

"The usefulness of this book will lie in its stimulating 
effect ; the danger, in the temptation to borrow slavishly 
from it. The two completed sermons at the close show how 
well the author clothes his own skeletons with flesh." — The 
Literary World. 

" It is the only work of the kind I ever saw that was 
worth the paper that it was printed on." — A correspondent 
in Standard of the Cross. 



k ** Copies mailed postpaid upon receipt of price. 



THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

2 and 3 Bible House ....... NEW YORK. 



BISHOP THOMPSON'S NEW BOOK. 



THE WORLD AND THE MAN. 

Being the Baldwin Lectures for 1890, delivered at Ann 
Arbor, Mich., by the Right Rev. Hugh Miller Thompson, 
D.D., LL.D. 121110, cloth, $1.25. Just Out. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR: 

THE WORLD AND THE LOGOS. 

The Bedell Lectures for 1885. Square i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 

"As a superb piece ot dialectic, as a capital example of good fighting, this little 
book will be a real enjoyment." — The Churchman, 

" They deal with the Darwinian theory of evolution, and the unbeliever in that 
doctrine will read the volume with a glow of satisfaction and a feeling that the 
common-sense side of the question — from his point of view — was never before so 
clearly and convincingly put." — Boston Transcript. 

THE WORLD AND THE KINGDOM. 

The Paddock Lectures for 1888. 121110, cloth, 75 cents. 

'" The World and the Kingdom ' is a remarkable little volume of addresses by the 
Bishop of Mississippi. Dr. Thompson's vigorous and eloquent book will, it is to be 
hoped, attract many readers outside the limited circle of divinity students. Briefly put, 
these discourses are based on ' development, the law of the Spiritual Kingdom," and 
the uniformity that governs both natural and spiritual processes. The thesis is not new, 
of course, for much has been written upon it, especially by writers 'concerned about 
the reconciling of religion and science.' But Dr. Thompson's interpretation of man's 
position in the world leads to conclusions altogether different from those arrived at in 
the popular literature to which he refers. Man is not engaged in a mere brutal 
struggle for existence but in a struggle for mastery. In the physical world the envi- 
ronment is accepted, by man it is disdained. He is not content to adapt himself to 
the environment, but in conquering it by continuous development towards more com- 
plex environments forever spurred onward and forever discontent with victory. 
While apparently ' a product of the world like all the rest,' his life is yet a perpetual 
conflict with the forces that produced him. Science and knowledge do nothing to 
allay the Faust fever of his spirit, his irrepressible aspirations, his 'blank misgivings,' 
nor do they explain his post-cognitions of what Marvell calls ' the happy-garden state, 
and that imperial palace whence he came.' These, says Dr. Thompson, are primal 
questions of humanity and not to be charmed into silence by any knowledge of matter 
and its phenomena. You may apply the principle of heredity here and find the key 
to the perplexity. These intimations of another state are reminiscences inherited. 
Almost all peoples have some such faith or tradition, however shadowy, and what is 
common to all must have a common origin. 

"We have but touched upon one or two salient points of the Bishop's argument. 
The full force and significance of his stimulating book will, we are confident, interest 
all sorts and conditions of readers." — Saturday Review. 



THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

2r amjd 3 Bible House, New York. 



CANON ROW'S NEW BOOK. 



CHRISTIAN THEISM. 

A Brief and Popular Survey of the Evidences upon which 
it rests, and the Objections urged against it considered and 
refuted. By C. A. Row, M.A. Small 8vo, cloth, $1.75. 

"Prebendary Row has attained high repute by his previous publi- 
cations, but we doubt if he has written anything more likely to be useful 
than the present volume, in which he sets forth in a popular form and 
with clearness^ and force of style the chief reasons on which Christian 
theistic belief is founded. It is avowedly a popular argument, adapted 
to the needs of the multitude of people who justly complain that many 
excellent treatises dealing with the subject are 'over their heads.' It 
also claims to be a comprehensive survey of the whole question as it is 
now debated, and grapples with current difficulties and objections which, 
if they do not subvert the faith of many, do nevertheless prevail with 
some, and cause widespread disquiet and perplexity." 

— The Standard of the Cross. 

" Among all the works of Prebendary Row in the general line of 
Apologetics of Christian belief, and they are many, this will be the most 
prominent in the list, the most thoroughly and lastingly useful." 

— The Living Church. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

REASONS FOR BELIEVING IN CHRISTIANITY. 

Addressed to busy people. i2mo, cloth, gilt top, 75 cents. 

CHRISTIAN EVIDENCE VIEWED IN RELATION TO 
MODERN THOUGHT. Bampton Lectures for 1877. Fourth 
Edition. 8vo, cloth, $3.75. 

A MANUAL OF CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES. i6mo, 
cloth, 75 cents. 

FUTURE RETRIBUTION, VIEWED IN THE LIGHT 
OF REASON AND REVELATION. 8vo, cloth, $2.50. 



THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

2 and 3 Bible House, New York. 



DIABOLOLOGY. 

THE PERSON AND KINGDOM OF SATAN. 



The Bishop Paddock Lectures for 1889. 

By the Rev. Edward H. Jewett, D.D., LL.D. Second 
Edition. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

Contents : Lecture I. — Introductory. Lecture II. — Moral Proba- 
tion. Lecture III. — Satanic Personality. Lecture IV. — Parsee and 
Hebrew Views Compared. Lecture V. — Christ's Teaching with Regard 
to Evil and the Evil One. Lecture VI. — The Sixth Petition of the 
Lord's Prayer. 

" The lectures are timely and able, and ought to have a strong in- 
fluence in counteracting the pernicious and baseless modern theory that 
Satan is only the personification of a mere force. The author's reason- 
ing is unanswerable ; he always is fair to opponents, and he has done 
good and abiding service. His pages are especially rich in researches 
and comparisons which bring out the differences between the Hebrew 
and the Parsee, or other beliefs in regard to Satan and evil spirits in 
general. He seems to quite disprove the hypothesis that the Jews bor- 
rowed the ideas of the Persians on these subjects." 

— The Congregationalist. 

" He has carefully and critically examined the various views and 
teachings on this subject to bring out with great logical clearness the 
truth of the personality of Satan as taught in the New Testament as 
well as in the rest of Holy Scripture." — The Churchman. 

"The author deserves credit for the boldness and clearness with 
which his investigation is conducted." — The Virginia Sem. Magazine. 

"Although written primarily for the scholarly public, the style is 
simple and the language clear and easily comprehensible by the ordinary 
reader." — The Philadelphia Press. 

" This volume discusses, in a thorough and scholarly manner, the 
question of the personality of spirits, good and evil, their probation, 
and the place assigned to them in the teachings of the Bible." 

— National Baptist. 



THOMAS WHITTAKER, 



2 and 3 Bible House, IMew York. 



ON ROMANISM. 



Three articles on Romanism. By the Rev. John Henry 
Hopkins, S.T.D. With a useful Index. i2mo, cloth, 
$1.00. 

"Entertaining reading, without a dull line." — The Churchman. 

" This is a caustic, severe and able arraignment of Romanism." 

— Zion's Herald. 

" Dr. Hopkins' articles form a strong and well stated summary of 
the question." — The Critic. 

"An amazingly brilliant book is this. As far as the correspondence 
with and strictures on Monsignor Capel go, we do not wonder that Dr. 
Hopkins has republished the whole and wound it up with a snapper in 
the shape of his elaborate review of Dr. Littledale triumphant, on the 
' Petrine Claims.' To outside readers who are not too much enmeshed 
in Roman Catholic sympathies to be able to extract any kind of enjoy- 
ment from the routing of such a serene example of prelatic assumption 
as Monsignor Capel, the whole will be as good as a play." — Independent. 

" The discussion is exceedingly sharp and lays bare the tremendous 
assumptions of the papacy in regard to the authority of the Pope, and 
the sole right of the Roman Church to the name Catholic." 

— The Lutheran. 

"Dr. Hopkins is bold and sharp, fears nothing, and is especially 
pointed in detecting weak places in an adversary." — Public Opinion. 



THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

2 and 3 Bible House, New York. 



THE DIVINE LITURGY: 



Being the order for Holy Communion historically, doc- 
trinally, and devotionally set forth in fifty portions. By 
the Rev. Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D., Canon 
of Ely. 414 pp. i2mo, cloth, $2.00. 

"We can heartily recommend this as one of the best things of the 
kind yet published for the general reader. It treats of the history of all 
parts of the service, rubrics, the text itself, technical and liturgical terms 
and expressions, and also the ritual acts in rendering the service, giving 
brief expositions of the meaning and teaching, with practical suggestions 
of a devotional character. The author's position is that of a positive 
but conservative Churchman, in the best sense Catholic. His style is 
clear and simple." — Pacific ChurcJunan. 

"We gladly give our recommendation of "The Divine Liturgy" 
in its historical aspect, and add that we can think of nothing equal to it 
in trustworthiness and wide array of facts." — The Christian Union. 

"The Catholic mindedness, historical accuracy, and wise caution, 
of Canon Luckock is nowhere more apparent than in this important 
work. It will prove a most valuable help to the parochial clergy in the 
regular instruction of communicant classes, a design which he had in 
view in its preparation. The book is in fifty portions, so that in the 
case of monthly instruction, it would extend as a manual of aid ior a 
period of four years." — Living Church. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

AFTER DEATH. An Examination of the Testimony of the 
Primitive Times respecting the state of the Faithful Departed and 
their Relationship to the Living. Fifth edition, revised. i2mo, 
cloth. $1.50. 

STUDIES IN THE HISTORY OF THE PRAYER BOOK. 

With Appendices. Second edition. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

FOOTPRINTS OF THE SON OF MAN, as traced by 
St. Mark. Being eighty portions for private study, family reading 
and instruction in Church. With an Introduction by the Lord 
Bishop of Ely. New and cheaper edition, complete in one volume. 
i2mo, cloth, $1.75. 

THE BISHOPS IN THE TOWER. A Record of Stirring 
Events affecting the Church and Non-conformists from the Restor- 
ation to the Rebellion. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 



THOMAS WH1TTAKER, 



2 and 3 Bib^e House, New York, 



A TREATISE OF DOGMATIC THEOLOGY. 



By the Rev. Samuel Buel, D.D. Two volumes. 8vo, 
cloth, price $6.00. 

From The Churchman : 

"After an honorable career in his high office, Dr. Buel has been 
appointed Emeritus Professor in the Seminary which his labors have so 
long adorned. It is by the request and with the aid of the most eminent 
men in the Church that he now publishes in two handsome volumes the 
substance of the lectures he has been delivering from 1871 to 1888. A 
higher or better deserved tribute to the ability and fidelity of a retiring 
professor it would be difficult to devise. 

"As an exposition of Catholic theology it is both excellent and 
charming ; some of its discussions of reformation doctrines (e. g. of pre- 
destination and election) are most admirable." 

From The Christian Union : 

" This work is undeniably important, and we believe that it may be 
taken as representing the backbone of Anglican divinity in this country. 
It is thoroughly orthodox. Particularly detailed and complete are the 
chapters upon the various theories of the Atonement, of the Holy Com- 
munion, of the Sacraments in general, and of Eschatology. * * * * 

" It is a work which is strong, unique, and will always be valuable 
as a complete presentation of the standard of conservative High Church 
Anglican orthodoxy." 

" It may be fairly recommended as a standard presentation of the 
concensus of the historic faith and of orthodoxy in the Protestant Epis- 
copal Church in the United States." — The Critic. 

"The treatise may be justly regarded as having general appro- 
bation as a statement of Americo-Anglican theology." — Standard CrOps. 



THOMAS WH1TTAKER, 



2 and 3 Bible House, New York. 



CHURCH AND CREED. 



By Alfred Williams Momerie, M.A., LL.D. nmo, 
cloth, $1.50. 

CONFLICTING OPINIONS. 

" Among the many Arts which have attained development in this century may be 
mentioned the art of " explaining away." Indeed, it h;;s been elevated into a sort ol 
religion, and Dr. Momerie is its high priest." — Catholic Champion. 

41 He is the clearest, boldest, and at the same time most practical and reverent 
Broad Church leader that has ever appeared in the Anglican Church. * * * He is 
indeed one of the most original and powerful thinkers of this generation." 

— TheN. Y. Tribune. 
"Extremely unsatisfactory in his treatment of Christian Doctrine." 

— The Standard of the Cross. 
"If such sermons were often to be heard from the pulpit, preachers would not 
have to complain of empty pews or inattentive listeners." — The Press. 

"A man had better leave his money in his pocket than expend it in the purchase 
of this volume." — The Church Review. 

" His sermons are unlike any sermons we can call to mind." — The Guardian. 

" Those who would know what pulpit boldness in the present day really means 
should make these sermons their study." — Christian World. 

" Fresh and breezy and very 'broad.' " — The Living Church. 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

AGNOSTICISM AND OTHER SERMONS. Preached in 
St. Peter's, Cranley Gardens, 1883-84. Third edition. Crown 8vo, 
$2.00. 

THE BASIS OF RELIGION. Being an examination of " Natural 
Religion." Second edition. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 

BELIEF IN GOD. Second edition. i6mo, cloth, $1.20. 

DEFECTS IN MODERN CHRISTIANITY AND OTHER 
SERMONS. Third edition. i2mo, cloth, $2.00. 

INSPIRATION AND OTHER SERMONS. Second edition. 
i2mo, cloth, $2.00. 

THE ORIGIN OF EVIL AND OTHER SERMONS. 

Sixth edition. i2mo, $2.00. 

PREACHING AND HEARING AND OTHER SERMONS. 

Second edition. i6mo, cloth, $1.80. 

PERSONALITY, THE BEGINNING AND THE END 
OF METAPHYSICS. Fourth edition, $1.20. 



THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

2 and 3 Bible House, New York. 



